No Turning Back: A Life Is Strange Story
by scarypunkghosts
Summary: Max Caulfield has a destiny. Everyone does. But what if she never possessed the power with which to change it? After a less than ideal homecoming to Arcadia Bay, Max is finding her footing again as an ordinary girl at Blackwell Academy. Free of supernatural abilities, she still faces many natural challenges. Max only has one shot to forge her own path this time. No turning back.
1. chapter 1

notes: Hello! Anna and Sarah here. This is a joint account shared by two sisters who love to come up with stories inspired by Life Is Strange. This story takes place in an alternate universe where max is an ordinary girl without her rewind powers. We definitely don't want to spoil anything, but there are probably a few things you need to know before reading!

1\. This story contains spoilers... in a weird sense. Basically, there are parallels in the AU that resemble major plot points in the actual game. If you're the type who doesn't mind spoilers, or you've played through/watched the whole game, on a Let's Play, go on ahead!

2\. We have actually written a good bit of No Turning Back in advance; however, we are going to space out our updates, if only to stay ahead of ourselves. What we _don't_ want is our readers waiting on the next chapter when said chapter is not finished yet, so we're going to try and eliminate 99% of the ways that could happen. Also, since this is a continuing story, updates will be posted relatively often.

3\. While this story does take place in Arcadia Bay, with all of the characters starting out at their respected ages in the canon (Max is eighteen years old, Chloe is nineteen years old, so on and so forth), it starts in October 2015 versus October 2013. This is only to fit in more modern references and themes into the story! We want to portray Max and Chloe as close to present-day as possible. We have planned for this to equate to an approximate one year difference (Example: If a chapter is posted on October 31, 2016, the date in the story itself will hopefully be October 31, 2015).

4\. In originating the concept for No Turning Back, you can thank Sarah for the main plot. She was the one who wanted to write a Max without powers AU in the first place, and she crafted several of the sketches for the pivotal scenes throughout the tale. Anna is the editor; writing is her passion. She is the one with her fingers clacking away at the keys, bringing the story to fruition. while some of the ideas for this story can certainly be accredited to Anna and some of the dialogue can certainly be accredited to Sarah, nothing gets jotted down without approval from both parties. This really is a joint effort, and we hope with all our hearts that you enjoy it.

5\. Let it be known that we do not own Life Is Strange. All rights reserved to Square Enix and Dontnod. Thank you for creating such beautiful, inspiring characters.

p.s.: This may be an AU, but be prepared for noted references to the canon and an indeterminable amount of in-game quotes, renovated to fit our narrative. Don't say we didn't hella warn you.

* * *

 **October 4**

 _Max Caulfield_

The rising sun peeks lazily over the horizon of Arcadia Bay on a slightly chilly Sunday morning. Some people despise waking up early to go to work. I would hardly know, considering today marks my first day of work at a real job in my life. And yet, despite the resounding yawns and sleepy eyes of passersby, I quickly discover that I am taken with the sky above me as it dawns.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm strange. Maybe it's my passion. As an aspiring photographer, I tend to take opportunities as they are given to me, soaking in the early rays of light instead of complaining, breathing in the breeze.

After all, I can't turn back time. Nobody can. All I can do is close my eyes for a moment and try my best to capture the present.

I push open the door to the Two Whales Diner and am immediately immersed in a pleasant wave of nostalgia. _Wowzer..._ I float through the memories, imagining my thirteen-year old self racing towards the jukebox to ensure the speakers played my favorite song. With a soft sigh, I drift behind the counter.

"Your apron is in the back closet, honey. You know where." Joyce Price gives me a kind, knowing wink before heading over towards the coffee makers and starting the first brew. I nod and make my way to the back room, my mind racing.

If I could have the choice to pick any other adult in the world to shadow during my first day at my first job, I wouldn't change a thing. Joyce made my return to Arcadia Bay after five years feel a lot less foreign the moment she offered me a position here.

Admittedly, I had asked for one. After my ventures last month at Blackwell Academy (Yes, I attend Blackwell Academy. I can't really wrap my mind around it either), September ended with the tragic death of my beloved vintage camera. _Only four weeks or so into my return from Seattle, and here I am, left with no means with which to take any photos outside of class besides my phone._

And so I had requested to work here. Joyce had graciously agreed, promising me that with enough money, a new camera could be all mine soon. The story of how it ended up shattered is a different one entirely, one I decide not to ruminate on.

Hours pass as the work day begins, and I am astounded by how fast they fly. The breakfast shift is a rush, customers blustering in like a whirlwind. Luckily Joyce guides me through it all, patiently teaching me how to keep track of the tables I wait on. She also shows me how to operate the waffle makers, the coffee pots, the deep fryers, and more. At precisely 9:42, I serve a hungry truck driver the first meal I have successfully mustered up on my own. The hash browns are burnt on the edges and the yolk from an egg over easy is running into a stack of pancakes, but I still feel proud when he gives me a gruff thumbs up before digging in.

During all of it I catch myself dreaming of how great it would be to take a picture of these first few moments in a new world. Of course, Arcadia Bay is no new world to me, but it sure feels like it now that I'm working here. _I guess you don't know what you have until it's gone._

I had no idea how strongly I had missed Arcadia Bay. I had no idea how surreal it would feel to hear Joyce's voice again and smell her famous pancakes until I had been away from it all for five years. Now, everything is in vibrant color. Flashes of sensory overload dance across my line of vision over and over with no pause in sight.

 _Well, eyes, it's up to you. Only you have the power to capture these moments._

But nothing compares to the moment that the clock is about to strike noon. That's when an image presents itself to me so picture perfect, so stunning, I almost curse out loud in front of everyone gathered here for lunch.

 _Thank God Joyce is on break. That way, she might not see me like this._ I hold my breath as through the door walks maybe the hottest girl I've ever seen.

She sure does know how to make an entrance. That's one thing for certain. Or perhaps I'm just imagining she does, considering my brain is hopelessly stuck in slow motion. Her feet pound across the floor, the soles of her worn out sneakers slapping against the tiles. Her ripped skinny jeans display an especially sweet sneak peek of her amazing legs. Her body is lanky and athletic, but I make no attempt to skim over the notable curve of her chest and hips.

And her hair. Don't even get me started on her hair.

She flips it back in a shock of electric blue, the choppy strands falling no further down than the base of her chin. Her wild eyes match her short hair effortlessly, like she's not even trying to look cool.

Maybe she isn't. Maybe girls like her are just born cool.

 _Alright, Max. Don't be a dork._ I grab the notepad with one hand and tuck my hair behind my ear nervously with the other, a little less than ready to approach the girl as I stumble over to take her order. Once I arrive at her booth, I try for a dazzling grin, but all I seem to manage is a small, shy smile.

"What can I get for you, Miss Blue?"

 _Chloe Price_

"What can I get for you, Miss Blue?"

 _I don't know, Max. How about a clue?_

A month. One fucking month. Thirty days, and this is the first time Max Caulfield has even bothered to make contact with me. I think she's trying to flirt with me, but her stupid little rhyme comes out all wrong as she fumbles with her overly sized apron. _Here she is, working at the Two Whales with my mom, who just so casually happened to mention that she offered Max a job here last night. I bet Joyce didn't even know she was back until she needed something._ I think bitterly, preparing myself for the worst.

And then the worst happens when I meet her eyes. Here we have a girl who stood by my side as my best friend throughout my entire childhood, and I'm almost positive she doesn't even recognize me.

 _Fantastic. Fucking fantastic._

"Coffee," I answer sharply. "Make it black." I don't feel any remorse; she's probably already served ruder customers today. _I'm no big deal, apparently._

I keep my eyes on her, surveying her as she stutters. "Uh-okay...I'm on it." My gaze follows her for a bit, right up until she's over at the counter. _Unbelievable._ Only when Max turns away do I let my face fall, looking down and tracing the tabletop with a chipped fingernail, trying not to bathe in my own disappointment.

 _Of course. This is just my dumb luck._

 _Am I being too harsh?_ I have to ask myself this as the memories ricochet around my head like carnival swings. _This isn't just any kid. This is_ Max. _This is five years ago, thirteen years old, on the precipice of discovery, making shitty jokes about cute guys in boy bands, trying to smoke each other at video games after midnight, tasting adventure for the first time. This is not just another person on my list of cookie-cutter Arcadia Bay bums to avoid and/or cuss out._

Max probably has a bright future, really. But something deep inside is stinging with pain at the mere thought of that future not involving me.

She comes back to the table with my coffee and I realize I haven't even glanced at my menu. It's a good thing I basically live here—that is if I'm not sleeping, smoking, or sliding under the scrutinizing radar of my step-ass, David.

"Here you go." Max awkwardly hands me my coffee, and I think I'm lucky she doesn't accidentally spill the scalding liquid all over my tank top. _Okay, so maybe I've changed since we were younger. Maybe I'm throwing her off. Sure, these days I would rather smoke cigarettes than smoke her at video games. Sure, these days I don't give a damn about boy bands anymore, or most boys in general... Regardless, I'm still me._ And not so long ago, Max knew me. She knew me like the back of my hand.

 _Just like Rachel did. But that didn't stop her from leaving._

I don't know whether or not to be annoyed or curious when Max doesn't leave. It's a refreshing change. She's supposed to ask me what I want to order, but she's easily frozen. I almost wave my hand in front of her, if only so she'll move.

"You're staring," I bite, relentless and unable to help myself.

"I-I'm so sorry." I have to kind of admire her silent spunk, because no matter how much she probably wants to scurry off, she roots herself steady. "It's just..." She lingers, searching for the right words before trusting herself to speak again. "I haven't seen you around Blackwell, but you...you look strangely familiar..."

 _Strangely familiar?!_ My mind cries out. "No shit, Max," I snap, leaning back in my seat and pulling my knees up to my chest inside the booth. _Lord knows she's probably still got her eyes on my boobs._

"How did you...how do you know my name?" Max blinks those baby blue eyes, completely oblivious of something so blatant that I have to refrain from laughing my ass off. Reaching one arm out, I poke her name tag, complete with the word _Max_ printed in big letters, right on the front.

"Eh, lucky guess." My voice is dripping with sarcasm. "Now, I bet you can't guess what I want for breakfast," I challenge, still feeling dauntless.

"Breakfast?" Max asks, incredulous. "It's almost noon."

"Your point?" I shrug, finally allowing a minuscule smirk to creep onto my lips. _Stay strong, Chloe. It doesn't matter how cute she is. She's Max. She's flirting with you and she doesn't even know your name. You may even be imagining her flirting with you. You're in a small town. In the middle of nowhere. In a place like Arcadia Bay, girls don't just randomly flirt with other girls everyday._ I shove the rapid stream of thoughts aside when my stomach growls in protest. "I'm starving and you're a waitress. Now, go on. Bring me food."

My smirk only encourages her, and I wonder if she's testing me. _No, this isn't happening. Max Caulfield is not testing me. Not while I'm already testing her._

"Alright," she mumbles, rolling her eyes and tucking her still blank notepad in her apron pocket as she steps back towards the counter. "I guess you'll just have to be surprised when I come back."

 _Oh, Max._ Confident and cold as I seem on the outside, there's no doubt that my entire world is reeling. Again. _You have no idea._

 _Max Caulfield_

 _11:59._ The mystery girl is waiting for her mystery breakfast.

The music overhead is slow and bluesy, the singer strolling his way easily through the lyrics without a care in the world, taking his sweet time. Meanwhile, I know I'm about to be flooded with customers...customers I'm in no physical condition to handle currently.

 _The lunch rush is starting, Joyce is on her break, and I'm hitting a wall with..._ My swirling thoughts are still predominantly on her as I almost crash into the wall for real.

 _With...who?_

She's unbearably moody and mindlessly careless, not to mention cryptic as hell. Every word that she spoke when I tried striking up conversation was plain and simple, and yet there were definitely hidden undertones. I'm probably no better than she is, digging my way deeper into something that might not even be about me. And yet, I'm too nosy to stop.

 _Why is she such a puzzle? What am I doing wrong?_

Flustered and confused, I rummage through fridge after fridge for supplies. _Come on, Joyce. Where did you put the eggs this time?_ I'm about to fall over and give up when I locate them at last, concealed in the back. Once I've got all of my ingredients, I start on the food I've chosen to make for her.

 _Max Caulfield, you're officially hopeless. Endearing, but hopeless. Just because her hair is blue doesn't mean she's a lesbian. You're stretching a bit far._

Acknowledging I'm into girls is still new territory. Ultimately, the realization solidified right before I stepped back onto Oregon soil. No, I'm not going to broadcast it. Yes, it still felt like a new start when I took my seat on the first day of classes at Blackwell and noticed possible candidates for a relationship.

 _So many students, and yet I've found no one at school. So I have to try another method, even if it means daring to try winning over the mystery girl. After all, there's something sexy about a badass who plays hard to get. Right?_

"Today's your lucky day." I'm at her table again a few minutes later, setting down the steaming hot plate. She's tapping her foot impatiently.

"I don't think lucky is the best word. You must be joking or something." She's vicious at first, but then she smells the food. I manage to get her to glance up at me and her eyes slowly soften, sharp blue melting into a much less intimidating crystal color, like a calming sea.

"Two eggs, two pieces of toast, and two pieces of bacon. And..." I hurry back over to the counter, realizing I forgot the most important part. "Maple syrup."

"How sweet," Mystery Girl says, but her tone is relatively peaceful. "Thanks."

"Well, it's my specialty, after all." I go for a playful smirk, but I know I'm shooting high, and of course I miss the mark.

"Your specialty? Dude, I'm pretty much here every day, and I haven't seen you here once." _There it is again...that secret pinch of spice and bitterness._ I feel like someone just dared me to shove a spoonful of pepper in my mouth. "Or, wait. Maybe I have seen you around, Max...you sure do look familiar. Do you go to Blackwell?"

The heat of her mocking me finally makes me want to throw in the towel for good. _What's the point, anyway, if all she's going to do is chuck my own stupid pickup lines back in my face?_

I'm about to speak up for myself when Joyce returns from her break. I let out a breath of relief as she makes her way over towards the table. She regards me for a moment, but she's more focused on my customer. The expression Joyce wears when looking at her is...different.

 _What's going on?_

"Look at who finally managed to wake up this morning," she teases, gently shoving the girl's shoulder a bit. "Glad you're talking to Max again."

 _Wait a minute..._

When Joyce turns back towards me, it's finally clear as day. Suddenly, I know what's happened here. It's all coming together, why this girl is driving me crazy, why she looks familiar, even in her new clothes, sporting her new attitude...

"Chloe." I speak the name of my childhood best friend, easily caught in the most embarrassing moment of my life.

"Took you long enough." Her voice is all of a sudden a lot more vulnerable. Joyce has cut the little game she's been playing with me short... _Or has she? Was Chloe ever planning to tell me I had actually known her for years? She wouldn't keep that from me forever...not Chloe..._

"I...I, um..." I make the dumbest excuse on earth next, if I haven't already been dumb enough. "I have to...take that guy's order over there." And then I'm gone, my cheeks burning, my resolve broken.

 _What do I do?_

The question haunts me while I serve the others, handing out sandwiches and fries and drinks like I'm not a walking disaster.

And then, in a beat of tranquility at around 12:30, I remember. I remember what I had been planning to do before I knew who I'd been conversing with. I pull the receipt for Chloe's meal off of the machine and grab a pen, exhaling shakily and hoping I can somehow redeem myself.

"Er, here's your receipt." I walk over to her one more time, picking up her plate and giving her the slip of paper, my nerves still on fire.

She examines the receipt, and thankfully, she's smiling. She's smiling smugly, of course, but at least it's a start. Then she stands up, wandering over closer to me, almost like we're in a dream. _If this is a dream, it's easily the weirdest dream ever._

"Only a complete dork like you would put her phone number on a receipt," Chloe remarks, and I hear her voice waver, just slightly. "Okay, so maybe you're not the only one to have done that." I'm not sure what she's talking about, but I guess I'll have to figure it out.

 _I guess I'll have to rediscover Chloe Price. I hope she'll let me._

Then she gives me a once-over, the first long look since we were kids. "Still the same total _nerd._ " She ruffles my hair and I nearly step back in shock. I wasn't prepared for her to forgive me so soon, after I'd practically abandoned her. But maybe something—something bigger than me—has other ideas for us.

 _Maybe this is only the beginning._

As Chloe heads towards the door to the diner to leave, her eyes flicker over mine. All I'll be able to do after this is hope this is not our only meeting. All I can do after this is wait. Maybe opportunity will be on my side.

"Max Caulfield," I hear her echo. "See you around."


	2. chapter 2

notes: Hey everyone! Anna here! Before the clock strikes midnight (at least in our time zone), Sarah and I wanted to wish all of you a happy Life Is Strange week! You know, since the game officially starts on October 7? Think about it. Three years ago, Max Caulfield's adventure began in Jefferson's classroom as she sank into her first prophetic dream... Crazy cool. We were going to do a requested prompt each day this week, but alas, we were super busy today. Hopefully, this update will be enough to satisfy the quota for our Life Is Strange fanaticism today...

This chapter isn't nearly as long as Chapter 1, but I think that's a good thing. Sometimes shorter is sweeter. Featuring witty text banter, a slowly rekindling friendship, and one of the main reasons we wanted to set this AU in 2015 instead of 2013! (Let's just say there's a reference to a certain artist that I want to take to be my lawfully wedded wife...)

* * *

 **October 7**

 _Chloe Price_

It's late afternoon. My phone is on my bedside table. I haven't picked it up yet.

 _Chloe, grow some balls. This isn't a big deal at all. You're just making it one. It's a damn text. People send them all the time. Totally casual. Nothing to freak over._

I kind of really hate that I have to find a way to calm my nerves over something so stupid. _It shouldn't be scary, sending a text to Max for the first time in five years. I've dealt with scarier._ However, I'm certainly thankful that at least I have a relaxation method available to me any time I need it.

 _Good ol' marijuana._ David's probably in the garage, so I know I'm safe to blaze. "Weed, tell me. How the hell did you come to be more dependable than people?"

Once I'm smoking and fading away a bit, I think I've mustered up enough courage. A couple of minutes later, my fingers are hovering over her name in my contacts. I considered giving her contact a funny name. Although, something told me that it wouldn't be near as hilarious to Max as it would be to me if she opened up my phone to find her contact name as _"that ignorant bitch from the diner"._

 _Come on. Write words. You might be sky-high, but you can type fine._ I decide to start the conversation off simple and obvious.

Chloe: hey _there_

Chloe: _so what do u wanna know about me_

Chloe: _considering ur curious about the past...idk, five years_

Chloe: _your love struck face at the diner told me u were tbh_

 _A quadruple text._ I frown. _What a good start. That doesn't scream desperate at all._

It doesn't take long for her to reply. I can't deny that I'm relieved. It's late enough that Max is probably done with school. Is she in her dorm? Is she chumming it up with her Blackwell friends? Am I distracting her from homework? Eh, if I am, she better get used to that.

Max: _Hey, Chloe. Tell me whatever you want to tell me, really. I'm not too busy._

That doesn't answer any of my questions, and it even kind of pisses me off. _I bet she wasn't busy in Seattle, either. Please, Max. I'm trying not to care, here..._

Chloe: _eh. ur probably swamped in hw, aren't u_

Max: _Actually, no. I've got some, yeah, but it's the middle of the week. I have plenty of time. And it's not like studying more is going to help me top Victoria Chase._

When she mentions Victoria Chase, it puts things into perspective. _Victoria is the real bitch._ Max may have chosen to miss out on maintaining our friendship long-distance, but at least she wasn't constantly sucking away at the confidence of poor seniors like a leech just so that she can feel special.

Chloe: _oh, god. don't even talk to me about her. she's basically garbage wearing a princess crown_

Max: _You've got it. Better for me to chill and play some guitar._

 _Guitar?_ The second life of Max Caulfield is definitely not as interesting as I may have imagined it would be, but at least it gives me an easy reply.

Chloe: _you play guitar? of course u do. do i need to check out ur youtube channel?_

It's sarcastic, I know, but the impulse is too strong.

Max: _I don't have a YouTube channel. It's more of a hobby. Plus, the only camera I have is a broken Polaroid. It never took videos. And now it's totally busted, anyway._

Chloe: _i got u. gotta keep the hippie life a secret_

Max: _I guess. So what kind of music do you like?_

I laugh up at my ceiling, watching the puffs of smoke that escape my lips dance in the air. Is she really trying to initiate small talk with me?

Chloe: _u wouldn't know my bands. unless ur a real hippie._

Max: _Try me._

 _Here we go._ I brighten. _Time to have a little more fun._

Chloe: _wow wow_

Chloe: _much bravery_

Chloe: _such edgy wow_

Chloe: _ur so edgy i bet you ate ur cereal with real milk this morning_

Chloe: _i just love ariana grande so much u know_

Unfortunately, Max catches onto my scheme. _Maybe it's good that she's keeping me from completely grilling her._ I forgot how nice it was to just text someone like this. I'm too used to my only notifications being angry messages from Frank about how much money I owe him. _Drug dealers._ I sigh. _Why can't weed just be free?_

Max: _No, you don't, Chloe. I'm pretty sure of that._

Chloe: _super max figured it out. alright. have u ever heard of sparklehorse_

Max: _Sparklehorse? Sounds like the name of a My Little Pony..._

Chloe: _haha. don't let their name fool u. it's good music._

Max: _If you say so. Maybe I'll give them a listen soon._

Chloe: _also angus & julia stone. and bright eyes. u?_

Chloe: _I know I'm probably going to sound really mainstream when I say this, but I really like Ed Sheeran. And...have you heard of Halsey?_

I stop cold. Halsey is an upcoming alternative artist. In my head, I can see her. A bisexual, biracial beauty with killer hair that she has a habit of coloring a different shade nearly every month. When you first think of her, you usually picture her when her hair was long and blue. With her intense emotion and flippant, independent personality, she kind of reminds me of myself.

I wonder. _Does this mean Max at least thought about me in Seattle?_

Chloe: _dude_

Chloe: _i had new americana on repeat for 2 weeks straight what r u talking about_

Chloe: _what's ur favorite song by her_

What she says next takes me by more surprise than it should. I feel my sarcasm ease away, vanishing alongside any leftover tension in my bones.

Max: _Colors, definitely. It reminds me of you._

 _Damn. That's cute. She's so cute._ It's infuriating. I want to get up and throw something, maybe a pillow or the phone itself, but I'm too serene. Lying here on my bed, rolling a blunt and talking to an old friend...it feels...nice. Familiar, even.

 _Why is this suddenly natural? Why am I letting myself slip back into this?_

That's the thing about me. As soon as I build my walls back up, some idiot has to come along and break every single one of them down again.

Obviously, fate decided to reuse Max Caulfield. I can't say I'm against this.

Chloe: _omg_

Chloe: _don't tell me ur gonna ask me what my favorite color is now_

Max: _Well, can't I be a little curious?_

Chloe: _max_

Chloe: _really_

Chloe: _it's blue_

Chloe: _kinda obvious smh_

Max: _Sorry...you know, I was pretty distracted at the diner the other day :)_

I roll my eyes. Yet another attack of cuteness. This has got to end eventually.

Chloe: _NO EMOJI!_

We go on for about half an hour, messages flying back and forth. Max isn't safe from my random bursts of wit, but I do end up telling her some of the minor details of my life while she was gone. Little by little, our happenstance reunion at the Two Whales is turning into a second chance.

And yeah, I'm pretending that I don't know how to feel about this. The truth is that I know exactly how to feel.

Hopeful. And nothing is more crippling than hope.

Max: _Hey, I have to go. I have a tea party with my friend Kate in a while._

I scoff. As much as I know I'm not the first thing on Max's mind anymore, I can't help but feel my skin turn jade green with envy.

Chloe: _a tea party_

Chloe: _ur kidding me_

Chloe: _get on my level_

Chloe: _and u better text me when u get back_

I realize I should have at least made an effort to sound casual, like I didn't need her to text me later. I'm fine all by myself...or so I've declared so many times before, screaming at David. Fine by myself, but eager, excited and foolish. _I don't think I'm ever going to learn from the past._

Max: _Of course I'll text you when I get back. I'll talk to you soon, Chloe._

Chloe: _later loser_

Chloe: _i mean that in a nice way i promise_

I may never learn from the past, but hey. Come to think of it, lots of people are hella determined on saying that it's not the past that counts— it's the future.

Chloe: _talk to u soon max_

Time for another blunt. I collapse against my pillow, breathing in deep and shutting my eyes, even though in spirit—God, help me—I'm still looking forward.


	3. chapter 3

notes: Whats up, friends? Happy Canon Day-Before-The-Storm... if you can call that a joyous occasion...

This third chapter is brought to you once again by Anna madly attempting to post it before midnight... Chapter 3 was already written forever ago, but alas, the editing process still takes up a noticeable amount of time ^^; We hope all of you will understand!

Also, we're working on editing Chapter 2 so that it is easier to discern between the characters' internal monologues (in italics) and their SMS text interactions (also in italics). I believe we fixed this on Wattpad. It's still updating here. Soon, the SMS format in Chapter 2 will match this format in Chapter 3!

We hope you continue reading and we appreciate anyone who offers us even a view or two. Favorite this if you like it; give us a review if you want to critique! Either way, we are extremely thankful to hear from all of you :)

* * *

 **October 10**

 _Max Caulfield_

"Max, look out!"

My friend Dana's admonition almost hits me too late, and I swerve in the nick of time. A wily teenager who looks about two years younger than me speeds by on his roller skates, close enough to brush my shoulder.

 _This is why I don't usually go out on Saturdays._

"Sorry!" I call out to him, but he's already halfway around the roller rink, spinning around and showing off to all of his rowdy spectators. _Yeah, I can skate fine, but I'm no expert. I'm especially no good at skating when I'm also trying to text my old best friend._

Chloe: max _factor?_

Chloe: _max-a-million_

Chloe: _max i'm listening to ed sheeran for the first time and damn_

Chloe: _why do u submit urself to such emotional pain_

Chloe: _max please autumn leaves is playing_

Chloe: _yo max where u at_

I'm bombarded by messages, but like I mind. I've been talking with Chloe through text for a good few days now, and it's honestly...wonderful. It's amazing to have Chloe back in my life again, no matter how heavily she pours on the sarcasm almost every time I type something. Just looking at the responses from her and getting a feel for her new personality is enough for me.

She's still Chloe Price. She's just been through a lot during these past few years, given the snippets of stories she's disclosed to me over our messages. Some things about her have changed. And that's something I'm going to have to accept if I want to rebuild our relationship.

Max: _Hey. I'm trying not to fall over on roller skates. I'm with this girl named Dana._

Dana Ward. I keep accidentally losing track of where she is, if only because she's practically soaring. She whirls around, skating like a champion, going backwards like it's easy as...well, going forwards. I figure she's most likely excelling at this because she's also a cheerleader. Naturally athletic, she possesses an innate grace.

Her chestnut hair is flying behind her, and I catch her laugh. _Good. She's had enough drama the past couple of days to last her a while._

Dana had made my list of prospective girl crushes the minute she pulled me into her social life. I was hesitant to befriend her at first, primarily because she's a member of the Vortex Club, which includes the infamous Victoria Chase. Both of them are beautiful, but only Dana showed she had a compassionate heart on the inside. Victoria, on the other hand...let's just say her reign at Blackwell Academy is nowhere near a benevolent one.

Anyway, I figured I might try my luck with Dana...that is, until I discovered she was definitely involved already. Between dating Trevor, getting pregnant by Logan, and becoming the object of Justin's affection as well, I knew I needed to respect that she had a lot on her plate.

Besides, her and Trevor are quite possibly the most adorable pair I've ever seen. And she's obviously still interested in spending time with me.

I notice it's been a while and Chloe hasn't messaged me back yet. As snarky as she is sometimes, at least she usually replies within a couple of seconds. When I do get a message from her after several minutes, I begin to understand why she took so long.

Chloe: _dana? is she ur hot date for the evening or_

There it is. If I could have been even more obvious, it would have been a masterful venture. _I guess flirting with Chloe back at the Two Whales on Sunday was ample reason for her to inquire some things about me, too._ Nevertheless, I'm sort of stunned she figured it out so fast.

I'm so stunned, in fact, that this time, I don't hear Dana warning me. Completely oblivious of my surroundings, I gasp and tumble to the floor as another skater sails right into me.

"Here, let me help you up. I apologize...Abby, come help her up." The voice belongs to a mom who seems to have come to skate with her daughter. The two get me back on my feet and I assure them that besides some bruising, I came out relatively unscathed.

"Max, did you even hear me?" Dana returns to my side and wraps an arm around me. "Over here. There are some booths by the snack bar where you can rest."

My body is recovering, but my head remains clouded as Dana guides me onto a circular stool. She leans down to take off her skates, and I hurriedly text Chloe a simple response before flipping my phone over on the table top.

Max: _Hold on, it actually might take a while for me to answer you..._

"Alright, spill it. Who are you talking to?" She gestures towards the phone quizzically, and because I don't want to cultivate any secrets, I confess.

"An old friend." I choose my words carefully at first, but then I'm reminded that this is Dana. _She has a best friend, too._ "A best friend. We're kind of like you and Juliet...only we haven't seen each other in five years."

"Whoa...conflict, much?" Dana places her hand on mine. "If you would rather talk to her, I can call another friend. You're fine. Really."

Her kindness is so genuine, so raw and real, that I shake my head.

"No, I can talk with her tonight. We have a lot to discuss, anyway, and I don't know about you, but now that I'm over here by the food I can smell how good a slice of pizza would be."

* * *

A few hours later, I'm back in my dorm at Blackwell Academy. I messaged Chloe telling her that if she wanted to actually talk with me on the phone tonight, she could. This leaves me brushing my teeth and throwing on pajamas in a skittish frenzy before I'm lying on the couch, sending her the okay.

Max: _Back at Blackwell. You can call._

When I pick up, a stretch of eerie silence as vast and wide as the Grand Canyon envelops us both.

"So, you're gay." Chloe breaks the quiet with the tact of a bull in a china shop.

"How did you know?" I query, peeking over towards the dorm room window, watching the first few shining stars of the night wink into existence. I should probably be feeling vulnerable or something. And I am. But at least Chloe's blunt way of asking me about who I am makes me feel a lot less stressed.

"How did I know? Easy. Takes one to know one."

"You mean..." I stutter, the universe tilting beneath me. "You...you too?"

"Chill, Max. I'm pansexual. I don't care. I meant I recognize people who aren't hetero . If you're not straight, you kind of tend to see it in others. Plus, you left your damn number on my receipt. Remember?"

"Yeah...but I'm still on _pansexual,_ " I make sure to mention.

"Max, are you really surprised?" she asks. "Sure, you've only known the 'new me' for a couple of days, but you liked what you saw at the diner..." Her tone becomes mischievous before settling into a slight seriousness. "Either way, you figured it would be worth a shot. Something must have tipped you off."

I'm not even consciously flirting anymore, but I find myself blaming fate for our reconciliation once more. "Maybe my gut instinct knew it was you all along, and it just took my brain a while to catch up."

"Shit. That sounds _just_ like a Tumblr post. You really are a hipster now. A super gay, Tumblr loving, photography obsessed hipster. Congratulations."

The stereotype doesn't offend me. In fact, I decide to play along with her this time. "Oh, like you're not Tumblr famous. I can see it now. The internet world would go insane over you, if they haven't already. And for the record, I'm usually on Instagram. That's where I post all my super gay hipster photos."

"Your camera's a Polaroid, though."

My eyes drift towards the wall over my bed, Polaroid pictures scattered everywhere, and a soft smile makes its way onto my face.

"I take pictures with whatever, whenever. I have plenty of Polaroids, too."

"Don't tell me you're a selfie addict."

I shuffle over to sit on the edge of my mattress, keeping my mouth shut.

" _Max Caulfield!_ You're a selfie whore. My best friend is a selfie whore."

I fall onto the bed, alive with laughter. "Nah, there are pictures of me with other people, too. I bet Joyce still has the picture of the two of us together..." I say without thinking, and immediately regret it. All of the sudden a sharp sensation in the pit of my stomach stirs me, and I stop teasing for a moment. "The one..."

I can't finish and I'm suddenly choking up. The picture had been taken by Chloe's real father, William Price. Later that day, he had died in a car accident.

"You don't have to say anything else." Chloe cuts me off, if only so she may not end up grieving all over again. "Joyce probably has it around the house somewhere. The picture, I mean. Not the camera. Long story." William's camera had been a Polaroid, too, but something tells me not to push the issue, that the topic at hand is sensitive enough. "I'll ask if she has the shot. Maybe she'll give it to you."

"No. I mean, you can keep it. I mean...if you want to."

"Okay."

More silence. I bury myself in my sheets and inwardly beg it to leave us be.

"Look at us. We're practically a fucking rainbow." Chloe switches the subject back to sexuality, and I'm actually relieved for it. "Who would have known?"

"Destiny," I answer, without missing a beat. "Destiny knew."

"Seems legit." I can't really tell if she's kidding or not until she lets out a sigh. "You and I must be meant to take the world by storm."

"I don't know about that."

"I do. At least, I think I do." When she agrees with me, I know we're getting somewhere. Trying to stop this would be like trying to stop the world from spinning, or trying to take on the role of the titan Atlas and hold up the sky. Odd as it was, our friendship was rising from the stagnant underground, bound by hope and the heavens, taking a million brand new forms.

Sure, it's strange. But it's beautiful.

Glancing at my clock, I debate whether or not I want to talk to Chloe all night. It sounds like an optimal idea until I recall that Sundays are heavy work days for me.

"I should probably get some sleep. I have to be up early for work."

"Ah, I see. Because my mom would be _so_ pissed off if you showed up five minutes late. You may even get fired!" Chloe exaggerates, and I chuckle.

"I mean it. But...this was...good."

"Yeah...yeah, it was. I'll swing by tomorrow around noon if you want me to. Make you make me more food."

I grin, delirious on dreams, despite the fact that I'm not even asleep yet.

"I can't wait."


	4. chapter 4

**October 19**

 _Chloe Price_

"You don't get it! You'll never understand." I scream, knowing I'm headed nowhere fast. If I'm going to end up in the fourth ridiculous brawl with my step-douche this week alone, I'm going to at least make sure I utilize all the classic comebacks before storming off.

"Chloe, I was a teenager once, too. But this is just stupid."

" _Stupid?_ What's stupid is you acting you've never smoked pot or drank. Like you don't have a few beers every now and then when you're locked up in the garage all day with your silly little surveillance cameras. Did you ever really come back from the military? Or are you still playing drill sergeant?"

"Jesus, Chloe..."

"Leave me alone!" I can hear myself somewhere among a chorus of every angst-ridden teenager in the world, but I don't give a damn about my lack of originality. _You can't go wrong ending a fight this way. Works every time._

Having successfully clipped our conversation short, I push open the sliding glass door and abscond into the peace of my backyard. The fresh air against my skin is a lot more welcome than the intense heat of the house, and of the pointless argument with David. _He isn't going to change anytime soon. Neither am I. That's the beginning of things and the end of things._ In my head, it was as simple as that. In reality, it was slightly more complicated.

 _Calm down, Chloe._

A mental note: I've been telling myself to do that a lot lately, a prime example being last summer, when Rachel and I had a quarrel so scorching and upsetting that she took the ashes of the fire with her and fled, leaving me out in the cold.

A mental footnote: This is proof that calming down never fucking works.

 _Unless I call Max._

I'm done tricking myself. I'm so happy that we're bonding again, the ecstasy is honestly sickening. I can sense thrills in my stomach even thinking on her for longer than a second. It's like an impossible wish, bubbling over in my brain, spiraling me towards this natural high. It's amazing.

And it's disgusting.

I have to call once or twice to get her to answer. I know I'm pestering her. But as long as she doesn't say anything, I see no harm in it. _I'm_ not _having a monotonous repeat of every other crappy relationship in my life._

"Hey, Chloe!" Max seems like she's preoccupied. "Sorry it took me a minute to answer, I'm skimming through some of my pictures. How are you?"

"Eh," I shrug, like that's an acceptable response. _It should be, anyway._ "My step-dad hates me. I hate my step-dad. Typical everyday stuff. It's hardly a cover story for the newspaper."

"That's got to be rough." Max responds with care, and I can't help but linger on how nice it's been these past two weeks, just hearing her voice.

"Yeah. I think I've told you he's ex-military." To be frank, I don't remember everything I've told Max since we started talking again. The details about what _she's_ said, however—compliments cradled in conversations like scenes from a cheesy movie—have an irksome way of sticking to my memory.

"Whoa. So he's probably extra strict, isn't he?"

"Yeah. He never really learned how to live life outside of combat. Even now. He's got this job as a security officer at Blackwell."

Max pauses. I wonder why as the seconds pass.

"Is his name David Madsen?"

"That's the bitch." I verify, successfully confused. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Max assures me. I'm not buying it, but I let her continue. "I've just seen him around." Every word seems like it takes hard work for her to say, like she's determining whether or not she should speak. Yeah, I'm a bit intrigued, but I decide I'd rather not investigate. _Investigating is David's job, not mine._

Instead, I ask a less invasive question. "Speaking of Blackwell, what's up in the world of Super Max? Prep school got you down yet?"

"You could say that. Hold on a minute..." She strays from the phone and I hear shuffling. I would joke with her about it, but I'm pretty sure she's rummaging through scrapbooks and folders for photos. _At least, that's what she said she was doing._

"Okay, I'm back, and I still have nothing."

"Nothing for what?"

"It's just...this contest. I've heard that most of the photography students here are planning to enter it. It's called the _Everyday Heroes_ contest."

I snicker. "How valiant. A perfect contest for Super Max."

"You would think. But I'm not even really sure if I should enter. The camera equipment the substitutes have been letting me borrow is really nice, but..." She gives a sigh, silently exasperated. "I don't know. The newer pictures aren't...me. They're all shiny and glossed over."

"Too basic for you, right?"

"I guess. At least our class finally got a permanent teacher today. No more substitutes. It seems like she's going to keep letting me use the equipment, too. It's not mine, but it's what I have."

I'm psyched to hear that at least a section of Blackwell Academy is finally collecting itself. _It must have been hard to find a new photography teacher right after the last one ended up being a secret top-shelf pervert, but two weeks is a significant chunk of a school semester._ I'm glad to hear that things are partially back to normal...as normal as life can be right now.

"Finally. I thought they'd never find someone who could replace the infamous _Mark Jefferson_." I roll my eyes and gag, to let her know my infatuated schoolgirl routine is one-hundred percent fake. I'd seen the news. Everybody had. "What a load of bull. The thought of a bunch of clueless students in the same classroom as him...the thought of _you_ in the same classroom as him..." I shiver. "If I had known earlier, I would have offed him myself. He better be thankful somebody threw his ass in the slammer instead."

"He...he got what he deserved." Max trips through yet another sentence, a clear indicator that she's not telling me the whole story. _Whatever. Better we talk about other things...things that don't make me want to give up on humanity entirely. Do things like that even exist nowadays?_

"What's the new teacher's name?" I ask, meandering over towards my ancient swing set, sitting down and kicking my feet up in the air. "Is she hot?"

"Please. She's easily had a nose job or two, and maybe a few doses of Botox." Max clarifies. "I don't even think she's hit the other side of her thirties yet, but she thinks she needs it. Her name's Ms. Faye."

And now it's my turn to pause. _Faye._ _One of Rachel's old modeling agents._

"Felicity Faye?"

"Why do you ask?" Max questions, and I steal her line like it's the candy bowl lazy parents leave out on Halloween.

"No reason."

"Alright, if you say so." Max says, as equally unconvinced as I was when she mentioned David. No matter how cozy Max and I have been getting, it's difficult to ignore the fact that we're also both incredibly involved in our new lives. _She's become a hipster, and I've become about ten times angrier. Development._

"Anyway, so what if your teacher's got a youth complex and your equipment won't give you the right "aesthetic"? You should still totally enter the contest thing. Why else would you have earned a scholarship to Blackwell? You're hella talented."

"Chloe..." Max turns bashful. "I haven't even shown you my best work."

"Come on! You should just send them one of your selfies! It shouldn't be some big challenge to make it look artistic. Art is supposed to be subjective. Right?"

"It's not a game. It's a national competition."

"So what? You've got what it takes. All you need now is initiative."

"No offense, but since when are you bouncy and encouraging?"

She's got a good point. _What's even happening to me? I was so furious only a while ago..._ My mind reels for a response, focusing on the recent memory of fighting back against David's harsh opinions of me. I think about each time I've stood up to him instead of backing down, and I'm surprised to find that I feel a bit heroic myself.

"I guess I'm just trying to say that anyone can be a hero with a push in the right direction. Especially you. You have...morals and stuff."

"I'm sure you have morals of your own, Chloe."

It's funny, how much faith she has in me, and vice-versa, when we've only been friends again for a little more than two weeks. Deep inside, I want to smile big and wide, so that she might be able to envision the look on my face.

"Max, you are so cute. You haven't changed a bit."

 _Have I made my best friend blush yet?_ The world may never know.

"Besides," She continues. "If...if I _were_ a hero...I wouldn't dare tell anyone. Too much attention. The spotlight would be _majorly_ terrifying." It's almost like she's speaking from experience until she adds, "Uh, hypothetically, of course."

"Of course." I smirk. "You _imagine_ the spotlight would be terrifying."

"Yeah. But...you're right. I should at least give the contest a shot. It wouldn't hurt anything. Thanks for the motivation."

"Hey, I'm always here to make sure my friends take risks and do crazy shit." _Just like I've made sure that we're growing dangerously close to becoming close with each other again._

"I'm glad."

The third silence between us today isn't awkward. It's almost not even noticeable. It just kind of...happens. And even knowing that this swing set was rooted beneath this overgrown grass years ago, it doesn't stop me from feeling as if I'm rocketing into the sky, spinning far, far away.

"Max?"

"What?"

"You could always submit a nude."

 _"Chloe!"_

"Kidding, kidding!" I say, my gut aching with laughter. "But seriously. You should get searching for a picture! And I'll keep being boring here at Casa de la Price. Keep me updated, okay?"

"Always." She says, like she really means it.

I start to feel bummed when I realize that I have no excuse to hang up first. _What else do I have to do? Scream at David again? Think too hard on what used to be my life with Rachel?_

 _Think about what could be endless possibilities between Max and I?_

"Wait. I'll help you out." Because I can't stand concealing how much I want to keep talking to her any longer, I decide how I want to spend the rest of my afternoon with ease. "You can tell me what each photo looks like, and I'll attempt to see them in my head. Trust me. It'll be hilarious."

* * *

notes: Good afternoon everyone! Anna here. I know it's been a while since the last chapter, but Sarah and I wanted to keep corresponding with the dates from the story as much as possible. (Also, I'm in college and have _hella_ homework. I wanted to try writing a one-shot to post in the meantime, but alas...) Anyway, I chose to put notes at the end of this chapter because I wanted to talk a little bit about how it builds the story up some more. Basically, Max and Chloe are discovering just how much they don't know about one another yet (and determining what they're willing to tell each other)... I didn't wanna spoil what the chapter was about before our viewers started reading! We want to keep some things elusive ;) But don't worry; more will be explained in Chapter 5!

(An additional note: Sarah wants me to inform ya'll about her plans for Halloween; she's dressing up as Chloe and her blue wig just came in the mail yesterday! I'm switching back and forth between ideas, but I'm either going to take the Life Is Strange route as well [by dressing up as Rachel or Max, but probably Rachel] or try my hand at being Heather McNamara from _Heathers_ [the movie is great and the musical owns my soul...] Either way, these scary punk ghosts are gonna have a scary good time. :P)


	5. chapter 5

notes: Guess who's back! It feels like it's been five years... :P Er, stupid jokes aside, it's Anna with the fifth chapter! For those of you who may have been waiting for an update, you're about to be in for a real treat. Not only are Sarah and I posting Chapter 5 tonight, but we have Chapter 6 scheduled to be posted tomorrow, a bounty of Halloween content for October 31, _and_ a chapter for November 1... yeah. Sometimes muse is weird. Hopefully, this chapter will explain some of the missing pieces of the September timeline and clarify some things that happened before Max and Chloe's first time meeting again... Get ready for Kate being adorable, Max being adorable (adorableness in general seems to be a main theme, here), and _lots_ of backstory.

* * *

 **October 29**

 _Max Caulfield_

"Thank you, Mr. Wells." Ms. Faye beams brightly towards the principal of Blackwell, her artificially whitened teeth flashing a searing smile in the dimly lit gymnasium. She takes the carefully folded envelope from his hands between her meticulously manicured nails and faces the chattering audience.

"First of all, I would like to thank everyone who entered a picture in the Everyday Heroes contest. Your photos have been taken into deep consideration over the past few days. In this envelope, I hold the name of the winner, who will represent Blackwell Academy alongside the other contest winners in San Francisco, California."

At these words, a silence cloaks the crowd. Everyone around me is anxious. I suppose I'm anxious, too, considering Chloe actually convinced me to submit a photo. I wouldn't be dealing with nerves if I'd simply stayed in the shadows. _Melting into the background is so much easier..._

I stare down at my shoes as Ms. Faye tears open the envelope, the ripping noise reverberating through her microphone. I glance back up, watching her unfold a small slip of paper.

She clears her throat. I hold my breath.

"And the winner is...Kate Marsh!"

A shocked gasp from a certain Victoria Chase comes first. _The Queen of Blackwell has nobody to blackmail since Jefferson has been imprisoned..._ I realize as her objection becomes swallowed in the rousing applause. I clap along as one of my closest friends shyly steps up onto the stage.

Kate's hair is tied up in a bun, and her hands are skittish as they fiddle with her formal pencil skirt. Underneath her soft grey cardigan is her only casual piece of clothing—a shirt with the words _Stomp Em', Bigfoots!_ printed on the front in support of the Blackwell football team. She makes her way towards her microphone, shocked, but she never stumbles.

"Thank you! Thank you so much." I know she has a speech to give now. I know she's usually quiet and reserved. But I know she'll pull through it anyway. Because she's Kate. Because she's already pulled through the impossible.

Because Kate Marsh was the last person Mark Jefferson would ever victimize.

It's the story I can't seem to tell Chloe—or anyone, for that matter. It's the reason my old camera broke- I damaged the delicate mechanisms gathering evidence of the crime. It was my first big adventure at Blackwell, albeit a dangerous one. It was why Kate and I became such good friends. It's why I understand her like the back of my hand. It's why I encouraged her to stay alive during her struggle. Strangely enough, it's the tragedy that brought us together.

But of course, a quiet soul like Kate had never wanted that kind of attention, forced into the glaring spotlight on a chilling, almost prophetic night: September 11. She was victimized early on, and by a lot more people than Jefferson, at a party held by the elite Vortex Club. Nathan Prescott of the disgustingly entitled Prescott family had been ordered by Jefferson to drug Kate's drink. As a result, the poor girl had ended up doing some crazy things, things she would end up forgetting (and ultimately, once she returned to her senses, regretting).

To top it all off, Victoria Chase had hungrily recorded it all on camera, right down to the immensely embarrassing footage of Kate making out with several other inebriated students. Kate's about as religious as they come, so I can only imagine the horror she must have felt the day she discovered Victoria posted the video of her at the party online. I can only imagine how much worse it felt when she watched it go viral. I can only imagine the pricks of pain that must have swelled in her very core every time some asshole called her out while she walked the school halls in shame. And I can hardly stand to imagine what it must have felt like when all the kids brought her abstinence program into it, calling her a hypocrite and a fake.

I made it my mission to find out what happened after the video was recorded. Kate told me that all she remembered after taking a sip of her drink was a strange, white light, waking her from a daze, and Nathan Prescott towering over her.

So naturally, our first suspect was Nathan. In time, we discovered the truth. We discovered the Dark Room. We discovered that Nathan was merely a puppet. We discovered information that still haunts me on occasion. And we discovered who Mark Jefferson truly was.

And we nailed him for it.

That's why I feel no jealousy at all as Kate accepts her award. This is the moment she desperately deserves. It's like the universe is saying exactly what I've told her all this time, through everything: _You are infinitely important, and you matter._

"I-I'm so grateful that you would choose my picture. This means the world to me, but more importantly, it meant the world to the kids we helped." Kate's photo had been a photo she took while she was on a mission trip with her church last summer. The image, both startling and sweet, depicted a young homeless child receiving clothes and food.

"The past couple of months have been..." Kate nearly falters, but it's obvious she's moved on from the incidents of September. "...Well, they've been really rough for everyone. But it's over, now. There's no use in dwelling on negative thoughts. It's much better...for all of us...to think on whatever is good, whatever is right, whatever is pure." She makes it clear in a courteous manner that the topic of her personal challenges aren't up for discussion, and neither is Jefferson. She will journey to San Francisco with Faye. She'll be safe with her.

"Um, go Bigfoots?" She adds the last part impulsively. Sure, Dana may have gotten her to wear a Bigfoots shirt to show her school spirit, but I can tell that Kate's relationship with the other Blackwell students is still relatively rocky. I'd be mad, too; bullying isn't something anyone should take lightly, and until Jefferson was convicted, everyone figured Kate had just wandered off drunk. _Ignorance is bliss, I guess..._

"Oh, wait! There _is_ one more person I want to thank." The stomping and cheering dies down once Kate continues. All of a sudden, I want to gaze down at the floor again. This is the moment I was hoping would pass without notice.

"I would like to thank Max Caulfield, for being an everyday hero for me."

Nobody knew I was the one who helped bust Jefferson. Nobody knew it was me who washed the link to Kate's viral video off of the girls' bathroom mirror when Victoria wrote it on the glass in lipstick. Reporters had suppressed frustrated sighs when I'd told them I didn't want my name plastered across the newspaper in huge print. Kate granted her consent for them to use her name because she wanted to speak out against Jefferson and school bullies. In contrast, I wanted to remain anonymous, and they respected my wishes.

It would be easy for me to get angry, but I don't. Kate's just speaking the truth. Kate's just glad I'm in her life. Maybe the others will assume she's mentioning me because we're friends. I'm a little on edge about what else she might say, but then she nods, moving away from the microphone to let the audience know she's really done with her speech this time. They resume their cheers, and I sigh, relieved.

"Thank you!" Kate gives a final expression of gratitude as she bows. Then, she shakes hands with Faye and Principal Wells before hurrying back into the crowd.

I'm the first person she flocks to, and she's already shaking her head and rambling before she even reaches me. "I hope I made sense up there...and I'm sorry if mentioning you made you worried or scared or-"

When Kate immediately apologizes for accidentally putting me on the spot, I can't help but pull her into a tight hug.

"Congratulations, Kate. You definitely deserved to win. And don't stress about it. You didn't do anything wrong." I say softly, completely oblivious as the force of our embrace knocks something off my head.

"Oh, your hat! I'm so sorry! I'll get that!" She scrambles to the floor and picks up a baseball cap Dana gave to me, complete with _Go Bigfoots!_ slapped across it.

"It's fine. You're the _real_ definition of school spirit." I shrug, but Kate places the hat back on my head anyway. It takes a minute for her to position it over my short, shaggy brown hair, but once she does, she giggles adorably.

"Perfect." She grins.

I laugh before I remember one more important thing I need to ask her.

"Hey, Kate. Can I talk to you over in the corner for a minute?" Hopefully, this is the last time I'll have to mention Jefferson's name...at least with her.

"Of course, Max." Kate agrees, leading me away from the people who have already moved on from the announcement. After pushing through the people spread out across the gym, dancing on a Friday night in the name of Blackwell Pride, we finally reach a small stretch of space that nobody else is occupying.

"What is it?" She's already mildly concerned, so I place my hand comfortingly on her shoulder to calm her.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just...I have this friend. Her name is Chloe. I've probably mentioned her a few times. We were best friends five years ago, and we're kind of finally getting to a point where we can be like that again. But..." I select my words precariously. "I think...she still wonders why I didn't reconnect with her during the first month I was back in town. In...September."

"You mean..." Kate starts, already connecting some of the dots.

"I could tell her I was busy in September and leave it at that, but something tells me Chloe would want an explanation. She gets kind of...annoyed when she can't make sense of something. I feel like I owe it to her to talk with her about it. But I also want to respect you, and ask you before I tell her...and..." And I'm rambling. I'm rambling so much that Kate stops me short.

"Max! Now it's my turn to tell you not to stress about it." Kate takes my hand off her shoulder and holds it reassuringly. "I told the reporters my name. I wanted it known that Jefferson did what he did to a real person. To so many real people. And I wanted to stand strong as a survivor. I don't mind if you tell your friend my story. And I definitely don't mind if it helps the two of you be friends again."

The awkward atmosphere around us disappears once she agrees to my request. I give her another hug, more than grateful, holding on tight until Ms. Faye taps on Kate's shoulder.

"I believe you have some packing to do for the trip. We leave Halloween morning." As cool and materialistic as Faye can be, her smile is a real one this time.

"Will do." Kate nods to Faye before the new photography teacher walks away. She bounces on her heels before turning back to me. I have a feeling she's not the only one with a wild couple of days ahead of her.

"I'll talk to you soon, Max. And I wish you the best of luck!"

 _Kate, you're too angelic to be true..._ I think, even as she leaves, even as Dana surprises me from behind and fetches my hand, inviting me to dance with her and Trevor. _Thanks for the good luck. I'll probably need it._


	6. chapter 6

notes: Hello, all. Two _extremely_ tired sisters at your service with Chapter 6. This chapter will lead into the finale of the October arc. As for our personal Halloween this year, things are coming together, albeit slowly. Sarah's got the majority of her gear for her Chloe cosplay (we're still waiting on the jacket) and Anna's decided on being Rachel Amber, after all; Sarah crafted her feather, and it's completely homemade and beautifully accurate.

We hope all of our readers have enjoyed the story so far, and we always appreciate reviews! Whether it's positive or constructive, let us know what you think :)

* * *

 **October 30**

 _Chloe Price_

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to read me as the type to never have her shit together. If you're one of those annoyingly persistent optimists, you'll probably try to spin my negative personality traits like _"haphazard"_ and _"unorganized"_ into positive ones like _"spontaneous"_ and "free spirited". The way I describe myself, however, is plain and simple. I'm not a schedule person. In any sense of the term. Chloe Price plans for no one.

That's why it takes me completely off guard when I start to develop a schedule for calling Max. Chloe Price plans for no one except Max.

I grab my phone off of one of the wooden planks connecting the old train tracks at the edge of the junkyard. I'm stretched out and comfortable, perfectly relaxed and unafraid. Again, that's thanks to the schedule I'm involuntarily beginning to construct- I've discovered by repetition that the trains don't speed past at twilight.

 _Come to think of it, this is actually kinda nice. It's good to know what times of day you can lounge in your favorite place in town with the assurance that a big ass train isn't scheduled to barrel right into you and crush every bone in your body._

There's a peculiar duality about this dump that not many people get. Most people are so oblivious, they don't even spare a glance to see what might be hidden beneath the rusted scraps of metal, the broken glass sprinkled across the grass from shattered beer bottles, and the battered old cars coated in dirt that bake in the sun's heat. Most people just call it trash and move on. I don't.

Maybe it's because I'm tattered and torn myself. Maybe it's because the atmosphere around me is simultaneously vacant and chaotic, which is how I typically feel. Maybe it's because the gnarled woods surrounding each corner seem equally empty and filled to the brim with nothing and anything and everything.

Maybe I'm one of the only ones who gets this place because it's just like me.

Twilight is a good time to call Max. From what I've gathered, this is when she's usually taking a break from her piles of Blackwell homework (yes, she actually does her homework, which is super dorky, but also strangely sweet and endearing) to muster up her dinner and contact others.

Occasionally, I'll have to quarrel for her attention. I've learned some of the names of her school friends by now, but not because I wanted to. Those names never fail to stir that little green monster inside of me. Sometimes it's Dana, the smoking hot cheerleader with a social life as bountiful as Rachel's used to be. Sometimes it's Kate, the religious girl with some kind of tea fetish that won the Everyday Heroes contest. And sometimes it's Warren, who sounds like he's an even bigger nerd than Max. Basing my opinion off what I've heard, I find Warren especially irritating.

If I'm able to score a conversation with Max, I'll most likely be on the phone with her for anywhere from a few minutes up to an hour. Depends on how lucky I am. Still, the conversations we have been sharing are definitely increasing in length. It's as if luck is starting to give way to a natural craving for an even deeper connection. Possessive and vain as it sounds, I think I'm becoming her first choice of people to talk to again. And my psyche is getting off on that. Big time.

I dial her number and stare up at the gradually darkening night. Max almost picks up the phone right away, which pleases me more than it should.

"Hey, Chloe! You called just in time. The majority of my homework for this weekend is good and finished, thanks to some help from Warren. Kate is packing for San Francisco. And Dana wants me later tonight, but I'm down to chat for now."

"Yikes. All three names in, what, the first minute of our call? Might I remind you who you're talking to, Caulfield?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Price." She reprimands, but her tone is light. Happy.

"Why does Dana want you later, anyway?" If I weren't so zoned out and peaceful, I would have been cringing at myself for prying. The logical part of me stresses that Max's escapades are none of my damn business, but it doesn't matter one bit. My emotions are all in.

"Nosy, much?" Max jokes.

"Oh, I'm the nosy one?" She's getting better at teasing me, sure, but I still have the upper hand. After all, I'm right; Max has always been nosy. If I still know her like the back of my hand, and I believe I just might, she's still just as curious.

"Okay, you got me." Max offers a soft, low chuckle that chills me out even more. "If you're really interested in knowing, she wants me to help with decorations for the big Blackwell Halloween Bash tomorrow night."

"Oh, is it Vortex shit?" I question gingerly.

"Not technically?" Max wavers. "I mean, Dana is a member, but she's not elitist or anything. She's more independent than they are. I don't see her strolling around with her nose in the air alongside Victoria and her cronies."

"I guess if she's your friend, she's...fine." I don't even know if I'm telling the truth. I'm probably not. But I've got to get over some of this jealousy if I want to build the Max and Chloe Friendship 2.0. _Sure, I'm a lone wolf. But Max isn't. Not entirely._

"Trust me, Chloe. Dana's cool." She assures. "Although I am getting tired of listening to her drone about the party. She _really_ wants maximum participation...and attendance." She says _attendance_ with a noted dose of skepticism. "I mean, of course I like Halloween. But she's borderline fanatic. She loves the stuff. Skeletons, ghosts, haunted houses, you name it."

"And you're not as excited to potentially scare the hell out of Blackwell losers?" I inquire, deciding to have more than a little bit of fun. "I mean, come on! If I were going, I'd totally show up as a scary punk ghost. Victoria Chase would run for the hills in her heels." And then, after a few more seconds, "Maybe I _should_ go. Then she wouldn't even think about screwing with you again."

"Is that a promise?" Max blurts, like she wasn't planning to ask me. I freeze up, and it's not because of the sudden temperature drop as the cool evening air sweeps across the sky.

"Wait, what?"

"I mean, uh, you coming to the party." Max starts, but she's already fumbling through her sentences. _The poor girl doesn't even make complete sense._ "I mean, um...I guess I wouldn't feel as weird about going if you came with me. For real." She continued, her point becoming clearer. "I just...I didn't even know if I wanted to go in the first place, but I couldn't say no to Dana when she asked me. She was just so eager, and...I caved. And..."

"And?"

"And going with you would just feel... _right_."

 _Right._ The single word circles my brain over and over. The way Max says it has me glowing like a fucking firefly. They're not common in Arcadia Bay, but I do get hit with a sudden and vivid flashback of a time when Max and I had discovered one for the first time. We were maybe ten. Like a young, foolish kid, I'd shoved it mercilessly into a glass jar. Max had freaked out, trying to poke holes in the lid without startling it into a frenzy.

 _Too late. This firefly is already frenzied enough._

Maybe it's the idea of actually socializing again. After Rachel, I'd sort of become a recluse. Here and there, I'd hit someone up to meet me somewhere to smoke and drink and talk about whatever. Here and there, I'd crash a party or two, turning up the alternative music loud and kicking it with the crowd. But it wasn't the same as it was with Rachel. And it _certainly_ wasn't the same as it was with Max.

"Please. Like Justin or any of the skaters would actually want to see me again." I shrug against the tracks. "J and I grew apart once school started back for him. All he does nowadays is text me random nonsense when he's stoned."

"You don't know that, Chloe. If Justin's as stoned as he is when he texts you, he'll probably just be stoked that you're there. Besides...you'll have me to hang with."

 _Oh, god..._ I can hear how distinct her motive is, now. I can hear the adorable plea, that blasted hopefulness. _Is there such thing as a puppy dog voice? Like puppy dog eyes, only completely aural?_

I breathe out, letting several moments tick by.

"You really want me to go? Against all of your other friends?" I'm still playing the competition card, and I know it's going to have its consequences if Max confirms that she wants to be there with me more than anyone else. _Get ready, Chloe. If she says yes, there's not a chance you can deny her wishes. Not. A. Chance._

"Yes." Max replies, and I know I'm done for. "Absolutely. It'll be like old times."

"Fine." I surrender, like Max had to Dana, rising from the tracks and wandering over closer to the junkyard. "I'll go to the stupid party and wear a stupid costume. But if we're doing this like old times, I'm trashing the scary punk ghost idea and we're totally going as pirates."

"Dude, are you cereal?" She gasps, and I can't help but grin wide as I head towards the remnants of a boat. The boats here always remind me of how Max and I used to play pirates so many years ago, scouring the lands for buried treasure.

"Oh, my god. You still say that?" I laugh heartily, crossing the field with ease as I near closer to the boat. Laughing escalates into flat-out guffawing and Max joins in with just as much volume. Our chorus of chortles becomes so contagious that the two of us only begin to settle down again once I've reached my destination.

Then there's quiet.

I inhale the silence as I lean back against the boat and allow myself to absorb every single memory of Max that had imprinted itself in my mind, old and new. I'd wandered around my house and fantasized about the possibilities between Max and I for nearly the whole month, but I'd never considered some of the more realistic stuff, like when I may actually hang out with her. Like seeing each other face to face after the diner. Like the way that this might actually happen. _This is actually happening._

One half of my mind seems to be fine with fitting Max into a schedule, finding times to call her, and treating her like someone I've never met before. The other half of my mind has a stronger pull of influence. It knows precisely what to say and do. It wants to act effortlessly. It wants Max to claim back her rightful spot as my best friend. It wants to trust Max wholly.

It wants to play pirates.

 _So what the hell is holding me back?_

When Max's voice finally returns, it's precarious and delicate.

"You really think we should do it?"

I gaze out into the distance as the silvery moon starts to rise.

" _Hella_ yes."


	7. chapter 7

notes: Happy Hellaween! We'll apologize in advance for the lack of the actual term "Hellaween" in this Halloween chapter... Anna didn't necessarily know that's what you call Halloween in the Life Is Strange fandom at the time she was writing Chapter 7 ^^; But the term may not have fit into this, anyway, because this chapter focuses on some heavier things. So it all balances out.

We considered breaking this chapter up into two pieces, but the formatting seemed simpler this way (one day = one chapter). As a result, we'll warn you that this chapter is _long_. If you, our readers, notice _any_ spelling mishaps, confusing pieces of dialogue, grammatical errors (aside from fragmented sentences used for stylistic purposes, because Chloe doesn't grammar, etc., etc.) or anything else of that nature, do not hesitate to let us know! We'll definitely take a look at it if it's pointed out. Having been posting so frequently, we always find it helpful to get feedback.

And so, without further ado, the finale of the October arc! We hope you like it. :)

* * *

 **October 31**

 _Max Caulfield_

Halloween night.

Tonight marks the night of Dana's big bash. Because I was preoccupied convincing Chloe to come with me last night, tonight also marks the night I stop procrastinating telling her about September. About why I was so busy. About convicting Mark Jefferson.

 _At least he won't be taking prisoners at this party. Or any more parties. Ever._

I arrive at the poolside clubhouse in Dana's neighborhood a couple of minutes early, parking the car and heading towards the sound of eerie music and the smell of smoky barbecue and freshly spun cotton candy. Before donning the eye patch that will successfully complete my costume, I make a point to take in the festivities.

 _Dana has really outdone herself._ Sure, I'd helped her put up a few decorations the previous night after calling Chloe, but she had taken on the majority of the work. Neon orange and green fibers spin vibrant faux spider webs across the foliage in front of the clubhouse. Alarmingly yellow caution tape is plastered across the iron fences that surround the pool. Streamers are tacked over the walls. Last but not least, the piece de resistance has to be the lines of royal purple beads draped in front of the clubhouse doors, speckled with tiny skulls. I near closer to find that LED lights are embedded into the skulls, blinking where their hollow eyes would be.

"Enter...if you dare..." Justin stands at the entrance, rapidly flickering a flashlight on and off into my face. _I should have bought two eye patches..._ I think as the blinding beams strain my vision.

"I'm trying..." I get close enough to catch the scent of weed on Justin's clothes before carefully pushing through the clattering beads and into the action...

And that's when Trevor tries to scare the living shit out of me from behind a grotesque zombie mask. At the same time, however, he trips over something or other, crashing to the ground as he groans in defeat.

"I'm gonna...eat your brains..." He's still trying, even though he's blown it.

"Maybe next time, Trevor." I chuckle and make a hasty decision to whip out my phone and snapshot the moment.

"Dude, what the hell?" I know he's asking why I'd take the picture, but every sentence of his sounds more like a drawn out exclamation than a question. I just give an impish smile as the image saves itself to my photo album. _This one's a keeper._

Classically cliche Halloween songs are floating through the speakers on loop as I make my way over to the snack table, waiting for Chloe. I look around for Dana, even though I know I'll probably only see flashes of her figure as she darts between each and every party guest.

 _Where is she?_ I'm just about to fetch myself some food when I hear a sudden screech from near the doors.

" _God!_ Watch where you're going, punk!" Trevor yells.

"Ha! The notorious ex-vandal of Blackwell strikes again!" Justin applauds.

 _Ah, there she is._

"Chloe! What happened?" I scurry back up to the front as Trevor groans from the floor for the second time tonight. Gravity and him must be going through it.

"This little bitch tried to jumpscare me like we're in some real life version of Five Night's at fucking Freddy's." Chloe explains, but I must still look startled and disapproving, because she goes on to swear he had it coming.

After the clamor dies down, I'm able to see what Chloe's picked out for her pirate outfit. She sports a black tank with several rips and tears, partially covered by her trademark jacket. Her jeans are dark blue and worn down, and they make me wonder if Blackbeard ever wore jeans. But it's her accessories that make the outfit-brown pirate boots, several skull rings that offer a metallic sheen in the moonlight, a black bandanna tied around her head with a white skull in the center, and of course, a play sword. It gleams silver as she removes it from a pouch attached to her leather belt. For a fake weapon, it still looks pretty badass on Chloe.

"Never mind Trevor. Captain Chloe's back and making some waves."

"And apparently, so is her first mate, Maxine McLame-Puns."

"Max." I remind her, straightening the chestnut colored vest that lays over my red and white striped blouse. "Never Maxine."

"Don't worry." Chloe says, her tone softer. Kinder. "I remember."

I lose track of how long I hold her stare when a voice like acid drips into my ears and jerks me back into focus.

"Out of my way, matey!" Victoria Chase sneers, slicing through Chloe and I as Taylor Christensen and Courtney Wagner trail behind her. The trio is dressed up as the Heathers (my hipster radar is relatively accurate when it comes to identifying references to timeless 80's cult movies), Victoria wearing Heather C.'s symbolic red scrunchie on her wrist instead of trying to force it into her blonde pixie cut.

I want to crawl into the nearest corner and hide until Chloe steps forward.

"Excuse me?" Pirate sword still in hand, she matches Victoria's level of assertion easily. "We were never _in_ your way, princess. Now, why don't you get your skinny little pirate booty back on the dance floor?"

Victoria's eyes widen like saucers for one precious second, like she's surprised to see Chloe back alongside the Blackwell bunch, determined as ever to counter her jabs. Then they narrow again and she lets out a huff, not even bothering to respond. Taylor and Courtney follow and the three of them stalk off. _At least they're gone._

"See? It pays off to have me as your plus one." Chloe bumps my shoulder playfully. Even after her hesitation about coming with me last night, she seems to be content in her decision to attend. _I hope what I have to tell her doesn't change that._

"Yeah, about that..." I start uncertainly, stalling like nobody's business and shuffling my feet.

"What? You're not gonna tell me there was some ulterior motive up your sleeve when you invited me here, are you?" Chloe's expression goes cloudy, like I've gone an inch too far, like her trust is slightly shaken.

"No! I mean, uh..." I'm about to ask her if we can head somewhere a bit less crowded when yet another distraction offers itself in the form of a familiar shaggy brown head stumbling past us.

"Warren?"

He's holding a giant ape mask in one hand and a half drained red Solo cup in the other, which leads me to believe that he's already somewhat tipsy. _Typical Warren. He's such a lightweight._ Easy for me to say. I don't drink.

"Mighty Max! You look ready for the high seas!" He compliments me like he's aiming to mean it, like this isn't just him being even more ridiculous than usual.

"That's us. Swashbuckling partners in crime." I suddenly hear Chloe pipe up, feel her arm drape over mine as she draws me closer to her. Warren hadn't even addressed her, but I don't think she cares. It's almost as if she wants to challenge him. Like her body language is screaming for Warren to get his own first mate. "Anyways, where's the alcohol?"

"Over where Nathan Prescott is." He mentions the name warily. "I heard that he's apparently in rehab for something, but I guess that isn't stopping him from downing as many beers as he can stomach."

"That creep better share." Chloe says curtly before carrying me off with her, distancing us from Warren. He just sort of stands there like a deer in headlights (er, ape in headlights?) before meandering away.

"Chloe, I don't want to stop you from doing what you want to do, but..." _But I kind of need you sober. I kind of need to mention that I have a pretty good idea why Nathan Prescott is in rehab. That it's probably because he was played by Jefferson. I have to tell you about Jefferson..._

"But what? I'm not planning to drive myself home until way later. I'll only have one. Will that chill you out some?" Chloe asks, like she's picked up on my antsy aura. "You're so on edge. Maybe you need a drink more than I do."

"Chloe, now's not the time to joke. I, um...I need to talk to you."

"I knew it. Didn't you want to kick it like old times?" Chloe's temper flares out of nowhere, shocking as lightning. "Or would you rather go in reverse? Would you rather turn the clock back to September when you were parading all over Arcadia Bay without even telling me?"

 _Ouch. That fucking stings._ I'm briefly paralyzed as Chloe turns her back to me. Despite my captain being ready to abandon ship, I manage to stand my ground. Still, that doesn't stop my throat from getting dry as I speak again.

"That's what I'm trying to say! I didn't just forget about you in September!"

The worst part is that I can't see Chloe's reaction to my outburst. Here I am, ready to lift this huge weight off my chest and get this over with, and I'm not even sure if she's going to listen to me.

The silence lingers. I count at least seven seconds before it breaks.

"Go on."

I shake my head and reach for her hand. "I will in a minute. Come with me."

"Max-" Chloe complains, but I've finally found my confidence. _I'm not going to let anything else come between our new friendship. Not anymore._

"Just trust me. Okay?"

Chloe chews her bottom lip thoughtfully. Then, miraculously, she accepts my hand and squeezes it tight.

"Okay, Max. I trust you. Lead the way."

 _Chloe Price_

We step outside of the clubhouse first, Max determined to find a private place where she can finally remove the giant stick up her ass. Whatever it is that's driving her nuts, I hope she spits it out soon.

"Careful." I snap as Max tries to direct me towards the back of the clubhouse, near clusters of bushes. "The party may have just kicked off, but that doesn't mean we won't find anyone back here getting their head start." That's the thing about some kids at parties. The rebellious ones have this sort of second sense that allows them to spill through the cracks in a party like termites over fresh wood. They're pretty much experts at scouting out secret spots free of supervision and restrictions. I should know; I'm practically still one of them.

"I'm not-" I'm guessing Max was about to say something about not being as innocent as she seems, but her voice still grows small and her eyes still widen when we happen to spy a stray jock leading a cheerleader behind the leaves. He's stifling her excessive giggles with one hand and the other is already crawling down and around her waist, teasing her hips.

"I guess Logan rebounded from Dana pretty quick." Max murmurs. She sounds mad. I simply shrug and start walking the other way. _That's the last time I'm letting Max lead me around. She gets too caught up in everything else._ I'm being an impatient bitch, but I don't care. All I really want is the truth.

 _Really, Chloe?_ A voice in my head threatens to contradict. _You want the truth? Even if it's Max voiding all the mushy shit she said three weeks ago about destiny bringing her back to you? Even if she wants to leave you again?_

"Let me lead for a while." I say. "I think I know a place."

A couple of minutes later, we're standing face-to-face in an empty changing room, where people would be swapping out Halloween costumes for swimsuits if the weather were warmer. We can't very well talk beside the actual pool because a) it's closed for the fall and winter seasons, and b) the party people didn't care about that and snapped the lock on the gate anyway. All I can hear within the radius of our location are the crickets chirping, and the faint hum of the speakers.

"Nobody's in here making out or zoning out." I'm surprised and relieved. "We're as alone as we can possibly get. I say we take it." I lean back against a narrow wall that separates two of the changing areas, folding my arms and eyeing Max expectantly. "Go on. 'Fess up."

Max spends a generous amount of time avoiding my gaze, which makes me frustrated and fearful. When she does bother to meet my eyes, I'm more than a little taken back. She doesn't look like herself. At all. I may have only seen "grown up" Max a select number of times since she returned, but the difference is obvious.

She looks _older_. Ten years older, at least.

"Do you remember that night you helped me pick a photo for the Everyday Heroes contest? The night we talked about the spotlight? The night we talked about..." She pauses before dropping a name I'd rather never hear again. "Mark Jefferson?"

"How could I forget? You were being hella cryptic about...something." I'd teased her about being a hero, about her reluctance to accept attention for her talents and abilities. "You didn't want people fawning all over you if you won." I frown. "And no offense, but why is Jeffershit even relevant to the conversation?"

"The contest was part of it, I guess. But it's so much more than that, Chloe." Max speaks like she's some wise old sage who's lived through ages of turmoil. I want to tell her to relax, but before I can, she ditches the high horse act and sort of...loses it.

And just like that, I'm witness to my best friend's complete deconstruction. This marks the first time I've ever seen eighteen-year old Max Caulfield break down.

"It's more than that because I'm the one who caught him."

She throws the reality of the matter straight at me, and it hits dead center, right in my gut. My mouth is gaping now, but I doubt she's even paying mind to that.

"I was the first person to realize Jefferson was controlling Nathan Prescott. That he'd constructed his creepy underground fortress and used Nathan as bait to lure other kids into his trap." I can hear the urgency in her voice, like part of her is still trapped in that cloud of concern and terror. Then she nearly chokes on her next words. "I figured it out and busted him...because the last person he had Nathan drug and kidnap...that was..."

"A girl named..." I try to grab the name of the tip of my tongue before another revelation sucker punches me.

"Kate. Kate Marsh." Max finishes, her voice changing from somber to fragile.

 _Oh. Oh, god._ I'd read the article about Jefferson's charges. I'd read about how an anonymous Blackwell student had sought him out and landed him behind bars. I'd read about his last victim, scanned over minuscule snippets about what the poor thing had experienced and how she had survived it.

Not once did I think to remember that her name was Kate. Not once did I connect the girl in the article to the girl who scheduled tea dates with Max. Not once did I realize that one of Max's new close friends was a former victim of torture.

I don't know what to say, but Max is still talking, so I stay cool. It's rough subject matter, but I keep listening anyway.

"Nobody deserved to be chained up in the Dark Room and violated like that, but Kate Marsh _especially_ didn't deserve it. She had no clue what happened to her. All she knew was that Nathan had handed her a drink right before her memory faded. Everyone figured she'd just wandered off the deep end."

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. "Kids get drunk and flirty at parties. Fact of life. Take Logan and his lady friend for example. You saw."

"Kate's not like that. She's really religious and promotes abstinence at the school. Basically, you and her would have _never_ crossed paths. She just wanted to have fun for once, but Jefferson swept that opportunity out from underneath her like it was nothing. He hid behind his position at Blackwell, behind his fame, behind his reverent admirers. And the results were nearly devastating for her."

"Devastating?"

"Rumors flew about her. People called her everything from a slut to a fake. They teased and taunted her so much, she didn't even want to deal with it anymore. She...she didn't..." Max is on the verge of tears, and I suddenly feel like the biggest bitch in the Bay. I think I know what she's hinting at.

"She didn't wanna live. Makes sense." I finish, and every bone in my body feels hollow. Yeah, life isn't all sunshine and flowers. But I wouldn't just expect Kate to suck it up and forget about that pain. You can't really shake that kind of sadness.

The room is darker, now. Or maybe it's just the mood.

"So that's how I spent most of my September. Really and truly." She takes a couple of deep breaths, swiping once at her misty eyes. "I saved Kate Marsh. I saved her more than once. I spent my free time sneaking out of Blackwell and capturing any footage I could get. While I did get enough evidence to convict Jefferson, my Polaroid camera ended up broken."

"Why didn't you ask the security officers if they'd seen anything?" There's no use in giving her suggestions on something she already did, but I seem to be spouting them anyway. "I mean, yeah, my stepfather is a total dick. But he's proud of his job as a guard. It's borderline scary. If you told him to invade someone's personal space, he would be more than happy to whip out all his secret cameras and shit."

"Your step-dad actually did help me some." Max mentions, and I'm a little hesitant to believe her. My step-dad actually did something heroic?

"Huh." I unfold my arms and let them rest my by sides, fingertips tapping the wall restlessly as I process the unbelievable. "That's the first time I've heard of David getting on someone's back for a good reason."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. He definitely has his moments where he's impossible."

"Please. You don't have to tell me that." I scoff.

"But in a way, he did help Kate."

"I guess he did." I peel myself off the wall and step over towards Max. She makes room for me on the bench, shuffling clumsily to the side as I settle in.

Part of me wants to put my hand on Max's shoulder or something. I think that's what you do when you're trying to reassure someone, right? But the entire atmosphere feels...awkward. Foreign. And I hate it. After all, Max specifically wanted to tell me about Kate so we might be close again, because I was still angry about her not contacting me last month. I think she intends to clear the air between us, but what if all she did was thicken the fog?

 _No. Time to be real. It's me who's doing that. It's me who's building walls. I'm the one who forced Max to relive a crazy and stressful time in her life because I just had to have closure. I'm the one responsible. I have to own it for a change._

"I'm sorry." I string the basic phrase together pathetically, like I'm using thin, cheap thread that's fraying at the ends. _How touching, Chloe. You suck at apologies._

"It's okay. You didn't know. How could you have known? I mean, it was me who didn't want anyone to find out that I'd thrown someone in jail." She gives a dry chuckle before pausing for a long time.

"And I did leave for five years. I'm sorry for that."

 _Whoa._ I should probably say something along the lines of _"It's not your fault you had to move"_ or _"I'm the only one that needs to apologize"_ , but I'm not inclined to. I may be owning up to my own false assumptions, but that doesn't mean I'm not still feeling selfish enough to drink in this moment for all it may be worth. _Besides, I don't think it was wrong for me to expect at least a couple of text messages from Max during her time in Seattle._

"You could have hit me up." I remark. "It wouldn't have killed you."

"I guess I wasn't sure how to talk to you after..." Max doesn't finish, and she doesn't have to.

"William died." I say flatly.

The weirdness between us disappears, replaced by mutual misery as the memory of my father resurfaces to haunt us. Five years ago, Max and I were both on the crest of adolescence. I was only fourteen. She was thirteen. And yet, we both held heavy hearts in young hands as we dealt with the brutal trials that accompanied growing up. In a way, we're doing the same thing now, on the brink of adulthood.

I think that's enough to support my thesis that growing up blows.

"It's not your fault he's gone. It was the mistake of a foolish driver. A split second in time that I'll never get back. But I'm over it." I lie, mostly so Max doesn't get too sappy on me.

"That doesn't matter." When she gets sappy on me anyway, I actually feel strangely comforted. Usually sentimental stuff isn't my style, but this is a special case. Somehow, hearing her speak so sweetly and genuinely is the most important thing in the world to me. Somehow, she's worked her way into this subconscious hole in my heart. Somehow, she's healing the fissure. "I should have been there for you back then. The least I can do is be here for you now."

And then she's moving. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders before they circle my neck, gentle and compassionate. She moves in closer and...she hugs me.

The first hug in five years.

I don't know what the hell is going on with my emotions, exactly, but they're suddenly exploding everywhere—in my mind, in my chest, in my aching body. On instinct, I hug her back, tight.

"You're here."

"I'm here, Chloe."

We don't let go for what feels like forever.

When we finally do, we're best friends again. No questions asked. We'd thrown the idea around plenty of times during October, but tonight, it's official. Our future is bound to be full of more crap, but for some reason, I'm thinking Max and I can deal with it when it comes. We both want to be friends again, so that's what we're doing.

Screw the rest of it. You don't fuck with destiny.


	8. chapter 8

notes: Happy November everyone! It's Anna with Chapter 8. There's not much to say about this chapter, but interestingly enough, the majority of it was impromptu. I wanted to highlight some of the events of the party and mix them with the aftermath, so that's how this chapter is designed. I think the formatting is really unique, and I'd love to write in this style more often. Let us know if it's confusing, though, and we'll find a way to fix it :) The parts in italicization (for the most part) are events from the night previous.

* * *

 **November 1**

 _Max Caulfield_

The first thing I want to do after rubbing the sleep out of my eyes is panic. It's late on a Sunday afternoon, and I have no idea where I am.

 _I know where I should be, and that's at the Two Whales, working my shift._ I go to bolt out of the foreign bed and throw on whatever clothes I have before I notice what I'm wearing, and who's slumped across the pillows next to me.

 _I'm in Chloe's clothes. Lying next to Chloe._

For a fraction of a second, I really do freak out. She's still asleep, but as my breathing accelerates, the sound slightly stirs her and she stretches. I want to heave a long sigh of relief when something metallic on her knuckles catches the bright lines of sun radiating from the window.

 _The pirate rings._ And then I remember how I got here.

* * *

 _The rest of the Halloween party last night turned out to be a blast. About an hour after Chloe and I bared our souls in the changing room, we were back to goofing off in the clubhouse, grabbing drinks to toast out on the dance floor._

 _It doesn't feel like nothing happened. Something definitely_ did _happen. But it's in the past. All of it is. Chloe seems to be through with being bitter about September. Seattle might be another story, but it's a chapter we've shut for the time being. The only thing left to do was let loose and enjoy the evening. And apparently, we did._

 _"To Kate." The first specific memory that comes back is me raising my Solo cup high in the air to honor her. Without Kate's grace and kindness, the reunion between Chloe and I may not have even been possible. "She's living it up in San Francisco tonight, free of Jefferson."_

 _"To Kate." She agreed. "And to my best friend."_

* * *

 _Best friend._ I repeat the words in my mind, smiling at the ceiling like a fool.

I ransack a glance at Chloe in the hazy light, tinted pink by the American flag that hangs over the window as a curtain. Specks of dust float across her as she lay, one arm tucked behind her head, one hand draped over her side. Her blue hair is ruffled and tangled and covering parts of her face, but I'm still able to peek at her serene expression, blissfully empty. Considering a lot must have gone on in her head while we were awake, I'm thankful to see her at rest.

It still amazes me that I can call her my best friend again. That she's doing the same thing. That we both mean it.

In the end, there's no other way to describe how I feel, lying here on her bed, soaking in the stillness and the softness and the sunshine. It's like I'm still asleep with her, faraway and dreaming of another world. It's complete and total peace.

* * *

 _A while after we'd toasted Kate, I remember buzzing. It wasn't the drink in my hand (I'd opted for the non-alcoholic stuff). It was Chloe. Her emotions definitely have a tendency to shift like ocean tides, but when she's happy, she's_ happy _. She was so content, in fact, that she convinced me to actually dance with her._

 _While I was still mastering a simple two-step, I watched her glide across the floor like a natural. For someone who only went to a select few parties, Chloe totally knew her stuff. I can still see the ends of her pirate bandanna, whipping wildly as she twisted and turned to the beat. Maybe I was watching her too much, because she teased me as she raised her arms above her head and rolled her hips._

 _"Shake that boney white ass!" She coaxed. "Take off your eye patch and you might be able to actually see what you're doing!" Cackling and spinning around in the colorful lights, she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it aside carelessly. I thought nothing of the gesture until the jacket almost hit someone nearby._

 _"I've got it!" I made the catch of the night and glanced up to find I'd just saved Alyssa Anderson. I don't know her too well, but we talk in the halls on occasion._

 _"Nice save!" Another voice chimed in, and I matched it to a girl named Stella._

 _"Are you okay, Alyssa?" She came dressed as a vampire, and she pulled it off well. After brushing aside her dark hair tipped with fuchsia highlights, she grinned at me, sporting killer fangs. Stella, having ditched her spectacles for spooky violet contacts, had arrived as a wicked witch._

 _"That was close, but I'm fine." Alyssa assured. "Thanks for warning me, Max."_

 _"No problem." I stuck my tongue out at Chloe playfully, throwing her jacket back at her before Stella piped up again._

 _I don't recall what she said verbatim. Something about how it was her and Alyssa's turn to warn me. Whatever it was, Stella made no attempt to cover up the devious smile that was stamped onto her lips, and Alyssa had trouble keeping her composure. Their main point was that they wanted me to steer clear of Warren._

 _"He's sort of..." I think Alyssa had began to explain, but Chloe interrupted._

 _"Hammered?" Ah, yes. I was right. She_ did _interrupt Alyssa, polishing off her statement with as much sensitivity as a professional wrestler._

 _"Chloe!" The fact that we weren't discussing serious things anymore didn't give her the right to revert back to being a bull in a china shop, but she did it anyway._ Classic Chloe.

 _"What? I figured he might be." She defended herself. "He thinks he's big and strong, but if I know his type, he doesn't stand a chance against a cup of Budweiser." And then she smirked at our company while linking my fingers in hers. The memory of holding hands with her is especially strong. "Don't worry. We'll avoid him."_

 _"Good. See you around." Stella offered a returning smirk before she dragged Alyssa back into the bustling crowd. Neither of them cared to elaborate on why they were acting so secretive. I don't know a lot about Alyssa or Stella, but Alyssa doesn't seem like the mischievous type. She's too accident-prone. Stella, on the other hand... She's as mysterious as they come._

Why did they want to keep me away from Warren?

* * *

My phone is on the bookcase next to the bed, sitting idle near a globe that probably hasn't been used in at least a year or two. I consider texting Warren to ask if he's okay, but then I remember that he'd sent me a few text messages after the party. Something along the lines of _"You won't believe what happened tonight."_

* * *

 _"I wonder what that was about."_

 _Once Alyssa and Stella were gone, Chloe had pressed a finger to her chin, pretending to think on what the two girls had said for approximately a millisecond before she was going on about something else. "And now I'm done wondering. On to a more important matter. Do you think I'd get caught if I stuffed some goodies from the snack table into the back of my truck?"_

 _"I don't think so." I shook my head. "In fact, Dana probably wants someone to help her get rid of the leftovers."_

 _"Hush!" When Chloe giggled like a little kid, it warmed me from the inside out. "The thrill of getting caught is at least half the fun." She winked, sauntering through the swarm of dancers. "It's cooler if we steal the food. Then, we'll be real pirates."_

 _"Wait, since when am I roped into this, too?"_

 _"You're my first mate. Don't you want a share of the treasure?"_

 _"Huh?" I wasn't sure what she was playing at._

 _"You're such a dork." Memories flash of her heaving an exasperated sigh as she led me over to the tables, swinging my hand in hers. The other rummaged through packs of chips and boxes of cookies._

 _"I'm asking you to sleepover." She clarified. "If you want."_

 _"Really?" I blinked, letting go of her hand if only to cover my mouth in astonishment. For some reason, I remember my heart decided to cease operation._

 _"Nah. Because I'm totally capable of stuffing my face with all of this junk food." Chloe responded with a hint of sarcasm before relenting. "I mean it. We should chill. Maybe Joyce'll give you the day off of work. After all, it's not every day you get to spend the night at your boss's house. Wait. That could be taken_ way _wrong."_

* * *

Apparently Joyce had granted me a day to kick back and relax after all, because my body clock is telling me I've slept the majority of the day and she never came in to jostle me awake. So here I am, chilling in Chloe's room, free of work, free of worries, and free in general.

Being back in her room is one of the most surreal feelings. If there's one thing from last night that I know I've memorized completely and permanently, it's stepping into Chloe's room again for the first time since I left town.

* * *

 _"Hurry up, slow poke!" Chloe pounded up the stairs, slinging her bag around her arm it didn't contain a bunch of party snacks that could fall out at any moment._

 _"I'm coming, I'm coming." What I didn't say out loud was that I wanted to savor this. I hadn't ventured up these stairs in five years, but everything still felt the same. My hands felt the same grazing past the wooden bars that stood in place of a railing. My footfalls felt the same on the faded blue carpet. Every creak of the floorboards underneath sounded exactly as it had before._

 _When I finally got to her room, that's when the familiarity stopped._

 _Chloe's room had undergone a total rocker's renovation, but what else had I expected? Posters were tacked up everywhere, displaying everything from punk rock album covers to promiscuous models to famous movie scenes. Written in between the posters were what must have been her own philosophies on existence, scrawled in black graffiti._

Just gotta let go. Everybody lies. No exceptions. I'd rather have a life of "oh wells" than a life of "what ifs". Think like a man. I can't sleep. _I also saw a tag that I'd noticed a couple times before, at school and at the Two Whales in the bathroom, that depicted a hole to_ "another universe." As if. _The last piece of graffiti that caught my attention was the Eye of Providence, staring at me from beside Chloe's dresser._

 _The rest of the room was just as chaotic and trashed as the walls. Magazines, empty liquor bottles and rumpled clothes were strewn across the floor. Old Christmas lights were strung up above an alcove where a desk sat below her second window, so cluttered that I could barely find her laptop beneath the stray papers._

 _Lastly, I noticed her CD player, mostly because she'd asked me to put on some music for us to listen to. The song that flowed into the room was much gentler than I thought it would be (I had already been preparing for my ears to be melted off by a screeching lead singer and wailing guitars). I examined the CD case, but the cover had gone missing._

 _"What's this song called?"_

 _"Santa Monica Dream. Not exactly my normal speed, but...it's special to me."_

Santa Monica Dream. _I liked it. A tender name for a tender song._

 _"You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in." Chloe offered. "Change in the closet, if you want. Or, you could change out here. I won't watch." And then a devilish spark lit up her eyes. "Unless you'd like me to."_

* * *

A day later, the band t-shirt and too-big shorts still feel so plush, so comfortable. I want to stay in these clothes forever.

I want to stay in this moment forever.

I know Chloe is eventually going to wake up. I know I'm going to have to gather up my things and head back to Blackwell to make sure I have everything together for Monday. I'm going to have to text Warren back, too, and ask Kate how San Francisco is treating her. Time's going to keep ticking, regardless.

At least for now, I can pretend that the ticking's stopped for once, drowned out by the beatific silence of a photographer's paradise, a scene that would make an amazing picture.

 _Damn, Max. You shouldn't have thought that. Now you just have to take a picture, don't you?_ I groan, like all artists do when they can't seem to push away an urgent call to craft. Reaching over and grabbing my phone off the shelf, I swipe up on the camera icon and position the tiny lens. Through my screen, my beautiful best friend remains lost in slumber.

 _Perfect._

Right before I take the shot, Chloe opens her eyes.


	9. chapter 9

notes: Anna here with a _major_ apology! I sincerely thought Chapter 9 was scheduled to be posted on November 8th and forgot that it was to be posted on the 6th! Anyway, at least you lovely readers won't have to wait as long for Chapter 10 ^^; Regardless, Sarah and I hope this new chapter eases the stress that is the United States election tonight... After all, as far as I know, distracting yourself from the frail fate of America with some adorable Pricefield mall fluff was never regarded by anyone as a bad idea.

* * *

 **November 6**

 _Chloe Price_

"Come on, Max. I didn't come here for you to cheap out and not buy anything."

After Max had gotten out of school earlier today, I'd called and asked her if she wanted to do something. The two of us had gone back and forth before settling on finding the nearest mall. This left me to pick her up at Blackwell in my raggedy truck and pray the GPS on her phone would give directions out of town without steering us into the middle of nowhere.

The closest mall turned out to be almost an hour away. _Of course._ Arcadia Bay was too quaint and woodsy to be a convenient route to modern-day Suburbia. _Maybe I've been to this mall with Rachel before, and the memory got misplaced by copious amounts of weed._ I wouldn't be surprised.

"People go to the mall to browse for things all the time, Chloe." Max explains, and I roll my eyes.

"Yeah. They browse for things, and then they buy them." I start to think that maybe she's low on cash and doesn't want to broadcast it, but then I remember she works for _my mom_ for Pete's sake. _Joyce_ _better not be selling her short. She wouldn't._ "Don't you have money stashed up from Two Whales bidness?"

"I told you I'm trying to get a new camera. That's what I'm focused on right now. That's what I'm saving up for." Max is determined as hell; I'll give her that.

"Do you have any money for day-to-day stuff? Or maybe some money leftover from your parents?" After all, they couldn't have just shipped Max here without providing some funds she could use to pay for gas, food, and whatever else.

"Well...I do have some of my birthday money left. My mom and dad transferred it to my account."

"Jackpot!" I grin. "Why don't you spend that?"

"I partially have...mostly on a couple of new outfits for school, textbooks, outings with Dana and tea dates with Kate...then again, Kate's so generous, she brings her own tea to share most of the time..."

"See? You're fine. Pick out an outfit. Just one. You said you used part of the dough to get new threads, so why not?" As we cruise through the crowd of mall rats, I decide to bump my shoulders against Max's and tease. "The world deserves to see Max Caulfield in something other than her boring old t-shirt and generic jeans."

"You suck! I like my shirt and jeans." Max is quick to retaliate, but she's laughing, so she must not be offended.

"Well, that doesn't mean you can't branch out a little. For example..." I start to scan the area for stores that indie kids like her would shop at. _Mall stores that indie kids would shop at. That's kind of an oxymoron, isn't it?_

I'm about to open my mouth when something much less pleasant appears in my line of sight, and much too close for comfort.

"Max, we've got a problem."

The problem is Victoria Chase, someone I was hoping I'd never have to see again after the Halloween party. _Why can't you, I don't know...never leave your house again? That's not too much to ask, right?_ While she and her friends are looking in the other direction, I grab Max's attention and point over towards them.

"Ugh. Maybe if we lay low, they'll ignore us." Max suggests, keeping her head down and playing wallflower. Obviously, being a wallflower is harder to do when you have blue hair. The best I can do is keep my mouth shut, which I'm also terrible at.

Still, we're doing alright, right up until we try to escape into a random gaming store. I imagine we must have made it until a voice calls us out.

"Victoria, look who's here!"

Max freezes where she stands. I whirl around, fists already clenched, to face Taylor Christensen. Her icy eyes glare at me from beneath her frosted blonde bangs before she smiles at our misfortune and beckons Victoria forward.

The Queen Bee, who honestly deserves an Oscar for acting like she rules every facility she sets foot in, accosts me brazenly and without remorse.

"Well, well. I see Max has decided to take you in as a permanent charity case. Weird. The combination of an expelled Blackwell has-been and a waif hipster wannabe is almost too pathetic for words."

I'm close enough to smack her face, _hard_ , and the impulse is almost too intense to bear. Still, I keep my fists at my sides, scraping up any remaining shreds of sanity in my possession and counting on them.

"I fucking swear..." _Don't go off, don't go off..._

Victoria leans back, like she's about to leave, but not without one more jab.

"Save it. I'll let you two _dykes_ enjoy your mall date. Catch you later."

 _Alright, forget it. That's the last straw._

"Catch these hands, bitch!" I give up, aiming my punch and shifting towards her with all the strength I can gather. I'm ready to nail her, but before I can do any real damage, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

 _Max._ Her force is even stronger, holding me steady before wrenching me back.

 _"Chloe."_ She chokes out, her voice weak and sticking to the back of her throat. I shove aside the red haze of anger surrounding me to face her. Once I do, I see it. Max isn't one to cry, but I know that look.

It's the look Max gives when she feels defeated.

"Let it go." Even her whisper sounds cracked.

After one last searing hot glance at the girl who dared to hurt my best friend, I soften and reach for Max's hand. Once I move it off of my shoulder, we're free to intertwine our fingers. Both of us are more than ready to leave Victoria behind, but not before I snatch the last word.

 _Maybe I can make her wonder..._

"Alright, babe. Let's roll."

 _Max Caulfield_

 _Babe._

I shouldn't be analyzing the word Chloe calls me. I definitely shouldn't be blushing so furiously that the heat is spreading across my entire face.

And yet, I decide not to grill myself for being flustered. After all, second hand embarrassment courtesy of Chloe feels a lot better than purposeful humiliation courtesy of Victoria.

 _Victoria. Is there anything she won't throw at people just to weigh them down and watch them sink?_ Handling her ruthless dictatorship at Blackwell had become routine enough, but this was a new low. Her recent revelation about my sexuality strikes a nerve I'd been striving to forget I even had.

 _Get some perspective, Max. You decided to come out of the closet the second you arrived back in the Bay._

It was true. I'd already made a pact to myself on the long drive from Seattle. It had been my first and only serious road trip since I'd gotten my license at sixteen, and my parents had given _me_ pieces of advice on how to stay alert and focused on monotonous highways. _Blast the radio and sing along. Read the signs you pass out loud. You could even strike up a conversation with yourself if you wanted to._

Like a geek, I'd decided to go with the last idea. The introspection had ended with me deciding I wanted to make my sexual orientation official. Upon reaching my destination, I'd planned it all out. I was going to start life at Blackwell Academy identifying as a lesbian.

That hadn't stopped me from fearing that Kate, who came from a conservative Christian family, would stop being my friend if she knew. I remember that night, the way she'd worded her curiosity, asking me why I'd ignored Warren's advances and if it was because I was gay. I remember my anxiety, and the flood of relief when she'd simply smiled and hugged me, brimming with acceptance and love. I remember her saying she cared for me, no matter what.

 _So why do you care that Victoria called you a dyke?_

It may have been the context. It may have also been the fact that Victoria specifically implied that I was not only a lesbian, but in a relationship with Chloe. Maybe that explains why I was caught off guard, but it doesn't explain the sensation creeping under my skin. It doesn't explain why my heart is pounding at the mere idea of Chloe and I _actually dating..._

 _What if she called me her babe for a reason?_

"Max, watch where you're going." Chloe pulls on my hand, squeezing it gently as I gravitate to her side and recollect myself. "You were about to ram into a trash can. And no, I don't mean Victoria, even though she qualifies."

"Thanks." I mumble stupidly. I'm happy to discover that at least my voice is back, and I don't nearly sound as pained anymore. "And thanks for defending me."

"Any time, my partner in crime." Chloe chuckles, and I don't know if I'm imagining things, but she nearly sounds just as ruffled. "I mean, I didn't dare look back at her again, but her expression when I called you _'babe'_ must have been a sight to behold. Don't you think?"

 _Oh._ I try and bite back what might have been a disappointed sigh, replacing my confusion with lackadaisical laughter. "Uh, yeah. It was probably pretty epic."

"Hey, you know what would be even more epic?" When Chloe waggles her eyebrows, I know she truly is trying her best to cheer me up. "You getting the hottest outfit to annihilate those assholes in."

This time, my laughter is real, and so is my beaming smile. "Okay, okay. Next time they come for me, I'll be dressed to kill." Now that Victoria and her Barbie dolls are nowhere to be found, it's easier to dismiss their words as empty air. It's easier for me to remember that Chloe and I aren't here to stress about what other people say. We're here to spend time together as re-established besties. To chill without a care. To thank the heavens above we finally have everything figured out.

 _We finally have everything figured out._

That thought contradicts itself the very moment Chloe gives me a wicked smile and my cheeks flush pink with confusion. Again.

 _Why don't I believe that, yet?_

* * *

an additional note: Okay, so this was written to be a classic hurt/comfort chapter, but we want to let readers know that we definitely don't want to paint Victoria Chase as a monster! This is just from Max and Chloe's perspective; because it's hard to stray from the main plot that circles around their budding relationship, we haven't been able to truly explore Victoria's character development. Right now, we see her through the eyes of an annoyed Max and a possibly even more aggravated Chloe; we don't see what's happening from Victoria's point of view. Hopefully we'll be able to post a chapter that sheds a bit of light on some possible development for bby Vic :)


	10. chapter 10

notes: Damn, scarypunkghosts. Back at it again with the late posts :P

Anyway, Anna here. Pay no attention to my being a cringe-worthy meme and direct your focus to Chapter 10! A lot of interesting things develop in this chapter; a few things are clarified, and a few things remain mysterious. Other than that, Chapter 10 is mostly chopped full of angst/fluff and pop culture references :P Enjoy!

* * *

 **November 13**

 _Chloe Price_

"You're late."

Max stands in the parking lot of Blackwell Academy, her arms folded over her new olive green sweater, her feet tapping against dark asphalt. I sit inside my truck, my window rolled down halfway as I take in the miffed look on her face.

"And?" I shrug, but inside, I doubt. _Is she really that mad because I'm not here right on time?_ Max is normally a patient person. Still, when I weigh in the fact that at least twenty minutes have passed since she got out of her last class... _Yeah, okay. I'd give her a three out of ten on the scale of pissed-off._

"Try again, Chloe."

I slowly exhale. "Okay. I'm sorry you had to wait for me in the flames of Black _hell_ longer than you expected to." And because I can't help myself, I smirk at my own joke. "Get it?"

"Whatever." Max shakes her head and looks away. Still, she's obviously trying not to laugh.

Soon she's riding shotgun and we're headed back to my house. Friday nights are ideal to have her sleep over, considering that Max doesn't work on Saturdays and there's no pressure to even consider actually sleeping. The best thing about _that_ is I can keep her up watching _Buffy The Vampire Slayer_ until dawn if I want to. And tonight, I want to.

"You're wearing the skirt you bought at the mall last week." She says once I'm home and we're both walking up the driveway.

"Oh, yeah." I wrench open the front door and saunter in with an exaggerated strut. The dark red skirt flares out, and the choice to tuck an Against Me! shirt into it this morning certainly helped me assimilate it into my punk wardrobe. "It's different for me, but I think I like it."

Max smiles. "I like it, too. I still don't know about...this, though..." She examines the long, comfy sweater with skepticism, pulling it down further over basic black leggings. "Too much style for me to pull off."

I want to tell her how strongly I disagree. _You can pull anything off._

"It's a sweater and leggings, nerd. Get over yourself." _Not even close._

"Try again, Chloe."

I sigh again, secretly grateful for a _second_ second chance.

"You look...hella good."

* * *

After grabbing an early dinner of a couple of sodas and way too many slices of pizza, Max and I wander upstairs to continue our adventures in vampire slaying.

"Alright, Netflix. Show me the best of _Buffy_." Fingers grazing my laptop's mouse pad, I scroll through each season's choices as we huddle closer together in our makeshift blanket cove. "Oh, this one! If I remember right from when I binge-watched this shit, what's about to happen at this point is really important."

We turn on _New Moon Rising_. I showed her certain episodes of the series after shopping a week ago, and she seemed interested enough in watching more. It was sort of cute, hearing her comment on the cinematography. _"The angles in that fight scene were killer, and the mood lighting was perfect...and don't even get me started on the filters..."_ I'm excited to hear what she has to say tonight, until-

"Whoa. I can't believe Oz is back after he up and left Willow like that."

I click the pause button right before the introduction ends. Her new analysis causes something in my bones to fester. Thankfully, this time, it's not about Max leaving me five years ago (although Oz does remind me of Max). No, this is apparently about Rachel. That's what my mind's insisting. _Because Max made things right between us. Because Oz's vague excuses for going away sound_ way _more like Rachel's._ I'd even argue that out of the three, Rachel did it best.

"I mean, he did leave, right?" Max continues, and I try to hear her through the bitter frenzy of my mind. "On one of the last episodes we watched, Oz said something about leaving to find a werewolf's cure. To...discover himself."

"Okay, yeah. You're right. He left, and in my opinion, it was a dick move." _God, shut up!_ "He could've just kept isolating himself during the full moon. Problem solved. And the whole self-discovery thing? What is that even supposed to mean?" _You're in too deep and Max is gonna think you're being passive again._ "Not to mention he literally banged another wolf." _Awesome. Bring up sex. That'll totally let Max know you're shading someone else._

"Chloe, if this is about us-"

"It's not. I promise. Can we just watch the show?"

"Of course." She says as she clicks the play button and the opening credits start. I try to simmer back down by drumming my fingers in time to the theme song and reading actor's names idly. I'm wondering if I should fast-forward when—

"Hey, who's this?"

"What?"

"On your home screen. I accidentally picked up your phone-"

" _Christ_ , Max! Pay attention next time!" I crack, giving into a knee-jerk reaction and practically hissing as I snatch the phone away defensively.

Max freezes. Says nothing. Blinks once. Like a doe in headlights.

 _She's scared, you jerk. Do something._

"Rachel Amber." I finally surrender, muscles loosening, the name on my lips coming out less sour and more bittersweet. "That's her name."

"Wait, didn't she used to-"

"Go to Blackwell? Charm everyone she met? Hang out with my sorry ass because my childhood best friend moved away? Check, check, and check."

"I...I, u-um..." Max fumbles and stutters, completely stunned. "I recognize the name, is all. This whole town seems to have known her. And then there's me."

"It's not your fault." I manage to cut Max a bit of slack. "She was popular, sure. But most of those people who claim they were super close with her? They're reaching." I sigh. "Rachel was as mysterious as they come. She had plenty of secrets."

"How do you know? I mean, if they were secrets."

"Rachel trusted me." Though I remember she never bothered to tell me about her other relationship with Frank... "She trusted me with most things, anyway. I had to find out myself that she was seeing our drug dealer."

"Oh." Max says flatly. She awkwardly clears her throat before continuing. "That sucks. Were you worried about her?"

I scoff. "Worried? Maybe. Jealous? Definitely."

Max takes a moment to process everything before she comes to the conclusion I've been dreading. _How stupid of me to give her so many hints. To admit that I was jealous of Frank. I couldn't be more obvious._

"Sounds like you totally crushed on Rachel."

"Everybody did." Maybe the ice in my voice will void everything I just said. _Or,_ my thoughts suggest, _you could fuck up again and melt your own damn ice._ Slave to the strange twinge of vulnerability that comes with talking to Max, my next words are way too soft and way too sad. "You would have, too."

I might as well have just told Max that existence is meaningless and death is inevitable, because she's got that serious _weight of the world_ look on her face that she tends to get whenever she processes something.

"Uh, Earth to Max? _My_ heartache. Not yours. It's fine."

I'm lying through my teeth and I think she knows, but she doesn't push it. Still, she glances up at me. Looks long and hard. Like there are words on the tip of her tongue that she's still taste-testing.

"What?" I open the conversation back up, against my better judgement, waiting for what will probably be my best friend's sweet but useless sympathy.

"Have you ever thought about moving on?"

I wasn't expecting advice. I didn't know how to respond to the question. I didn't know how to let go of Rachel. Of course, I didn't know how to hold on to her, either. _Because she left._ But she never really did.

 _Just like Max never really left._ Just like the memories of when we were young remain, still tacked up in my consciousness, still tucked away in my dresser in the form of old scribbled drawings and dusty photos.

 _Max. You've always been here._ I'm looking into her eyes and it's almost as if I'm making the connection between the girl she was and the girl she is for the first time since she returned. It's almost as if, surprisingly, I'm losing track of what we were even talking about. Then I'm taken back by my own response.

"I guess we all have to move on at some point."

"Oh." Max's breath hitches. It's so quiet in the room that I can hear it in surround sound.

 _Is this moving on?_ I remember the ridiculous display she put on at the diner back in October, feebly flirting with me, so nervous she couldn't even withstand my gaze. Now, all I can see is the sapphire of her irises, and it's her bravery that keeps them in view for the next few seconds. _No. This isn't moving on. Not completely. I think we've stopped. I think you've made time stop._

"So, New Moon Rising. Is it about Willow moving on?"

"Huh?" My eyebrows crinkle before it occurs to me that the two of us have managed to venture down the longest rabbit trail this side of the Bay. Sure, there may be things between Max and I that are yet to be said, but right now, there are also fictional vampires yet to be staked.

"Ah, right. Buffy." I wave the mouse over my laptop screen, which had dimmed while we were talking.

"You didn't answer me. Is that what the episode is about?"

"I'm not giving you spoilers."

"Come _on_!"

"Nope. You'll find out for yourself."

I resume the show, but between thinking about Rachel and thinking about Max, my attention span is pretty much shot.

Then it's solely thinking about Max.

Then it's dazing above a floating mental image of a moment ago.

Then it's confusing. _Really_ confusing.

I find myself wishing for some way to express it, express _this_ , whatever it is. I'm wishing I could do what I always do and speak before I think. I'm wishing for my normal bravado, and I'm cursing the fact that maybe it's Max who stole it. I'm on the brink of wishing I could be high right now, if only to relax me enough to the point where I'd just blurt everything out.

But for once, I decide I actually _don't_ want weed. I think that if (or when) I tell Max I might be into her, I'll wanna be sober for that.


	11. chapter 11

notes: Anna here! I know it's been a while, but Sarah and I have got a long chapter for you to make up for the slight absence! I don't even know what made it so long, but I suspect it might be because I can't get enough of the adorable Max/Kate interactions. Also, we've included some of Max's diary entries to help offer more insight into all of our developing plots, and also for your viewing pleasure ^^

* * *

 **November 22**

 _Max Caulfield_

 _Five minutes._ I scan the clock on my phone's home screen, breaking my focus from writing for the first time only after I finish scrawling down the last sentence. _I have five minutes before my break ends to read over nine days' worth of journal entries. Easy enough, right?_

Wrong. Zeroing in on the weathered pages of my journal again is a lot harder once I've glanced away from it. _So many things to be distracted by..._

I'm slumped back against the rear entrance to the Two Whales, sitting on the top step of the stairs, my legs drawn in close to keep the journal in place. Resting my pencil against the hard concrete, I look off to the side. From here, I have partial vision of the old stretch of road in front of the diner. I watch as every so often, another vehicle rushes by in an instant, leaving in its wake a sharp rush of air that only makes the chill of November even chillier.

When a sixteen-wheeler barrels past, the breeze is so forceful that it begins to mildly tousle the pages of my diary for me. _Okay, nature. You win._

I flip back to the entry where things initially began to change.

* * *

 _November 14_

 _4am. I can't believe I'm writing at 4am. I can't believe Chloe fell asleep first. After she said she was determined to stay awake with me until sunrise. Even after she swore we could finish Season 4 of_ Buffy.

 _At least she's not a vampire, and I don't have to worry about her literally catching fire when dawn comes in a couple of hours..._

 _I'm worrying about other things, anyway._

 _I'm having trouble falling asleep. Too many questions._

 _Can they even be considered questions when I'm still figuring out what exactly I'm asking?_

 _I know I'm asking about Chloe. I know this is about Chloe._

 _But it's also about me. And it's about Rachel Amber, too._

 _I should have realized. I should have realized the second I picked up Chloe's phone that the girl smiling at me beneath the technicolor screen was none other than Blackwell alum Rachel Amber. She seemed to be a hot topic at school when I was questioning students about Mark Jefferson with Kate._

 _The students told me the basics._

 _The rest of Rachel's story, unfortunately, I had to discover for myself._

 _I want to tell Chloe, but I don't want to tell Chloe. Does she already know? Either way, I think some things that happen in the Dark Room should probably, well, stay in the dark. After all, when Kate and I were finished exposing Jefferson, we each developed_ majorly _different coping mechanisms. She'll profess to everyone and her brother... and that's not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I think it's kind of astoundingly brave... But me? I'd rather lock some things away._

 _And who knows? Rachel may want the same confidentiality._

 _Of course, I knew that sick bastard had taken in other victims besides Kate. Still, it's like Rachel is another string of this web we're all stuck in. Jefferson's locked up in prison, now. I put him there! Can't this end? It was bad enough that_ my _close friend was hurt by him. Why'd he have to go and hurt somebody who used to be Chloe's close friend?_

"Close friend". _I don't know if those are the right words to define Chloe and Rachel. Did they ever become a mutual thing? Or was Chloe just pining after Rachel while Rachel was dating their drug dealer? Would Rachel Amber cheat? I guess any type of relationship is possible when pot's involved..._

 _Why do I care if Chloe isn't ready to forget about her crush on Rachel? Why would I care if she_ is _ready? Why did I ask Chloe about moving on? What was going on in Chloe's head? I don't doubt that if she were awake right now, her mind would be swimming in an ocean of thoughts even deeper and more turbulent than mine._

 _Or what if she wouldn't give this a second thought? Am I_ overthinking? _How can you overthink something you've barely started thinking about?_

 _Maybe I should stop. Concentrate on one question at a time._

 _But this doesn't boil down to any of the questions. This boils down to more of a statement. A name. A friend who looked into my eyes just a fraction of a second too long and started all of this._

 _Chloe._

* * *

I realize I may have been keen to busy myself instead of re-reading this entry because it only proves I had no idea what I was doing when I wrote it in the middle of the night. Rambling on and on about Rachel, and Chloe, and...who knows what else? Hell, it feels like I _still_ have no idea what I'm doing, right now, in the middle of the afternoon after a good night's sleep.

Still, I keep reading.

* * *

 _November 15_

 _Chloe stopped by the diner today. She challenged me to make her a dish I hadn't made yet. I told her today marks six weeks since I started the job and that I've cooked almost everything. Still, she wouldn't back down._

 _So I searched the menu for the most obscure thing I could find, and I thought about the first day we met for the millionth time since it happened. I thought about how I'd watched her stroll in without a single clue. God, watching her seemed so shameless when I thought she was a stranger._

 _But she's not. And that's good... I think. We're so comfortable with each other. So at home with one another. I wonder what it'd be like if we put that level of comfort to a different use._

 _I wonder if we'd ask each other questions._

* * *

I go to the next entry, and the next, and so on, but almost every bit of it is more of the same stuff. _Blah, blah, blah... Chloe this, Chloe that... Chloe, Chloe, Chloe..._

I finally reach the entry I've just completed. I decide it's worth more than passive scanning, mostly because I may actually be getting somewhere.

* * *

 _November 22_

 _Maybe it isn't just fate that guides Chloe and I. Maybe it's choice, too._

 _I_ chose _to write my number on Chloe's receipt on October 4. Earlier today when she came here for breakfast, she explained something to me that I could have sworn she'd forgotten about._

 _She asked if I recalled her teasing me about putting my number on the receipt. If I recalled the way she'd suggested afterwards that me coming up with the idea wasn't original or unique in the slightest. After I said_ I remember to a certain extent _, she started to laugh._

 _She said that Joyce did the same thing years ago. When Joyce met David._ Not that it makes him any less of a douche, _she'd made sure to point out,_ but I have to admit, it was a smooth move.

 _A smooth move._

 _Maybe I_ chose _to flirt with Chloe._

 _Maybe this is a different path for us._

 _Where does it lead?_

 _Maybe she's already one step ahead of me._

* * *

"Max? Are you busy?"

Once my break is finished, I'm back at work. Joyce chooses to call me right in the middle of flipping an egg to put on top of a sandwich melt, but It's not her fault. At least the yolk doesn't bust.

"Give me a minute, I'm dealing with hot oil, and then I promise I'll do whatever it is you need me to do."

"Alright. Don't worry, darling. There's no rush." Her voice is easy, comforting. "You're fine where you are. I just thought you might want to know that I was talking to a girl named Kate out there. She told me to tell you she was here."

 _Kate!_ I beam happily, slipping the egg onto the sandwich and switching off the heat of the stove top. _I've been meaning to catch up with her since she got back from San Francisco!_ I want to ask her how it felt to see her own photo, framed and illuminated, on display for everyone to see in an actual museum. It would be a simpler question than the ones I've been currently asking myself, anyway.

"Awesome. Tell her I'll be right there."

* * *

"Ah, so you must be Maxine!" It's nice to finally meet you!"

"We've heard a lot about you."

"The food looks amazing!"

"Hi, Max! Mom, can she sit with us for a minute?"

The bolt of disbelief is still rattling my insides, alive as I shake hands with member of Kate's family. Kate's family is here. Kate's family is _here_. They must have decided to come get brunch after a local church service or something similar. I think what confounds me most, however, is the fact that her father called me Maxine. _Get over it, Max. Your full name's not exactly classified._

"Nice to meet you, too." I address Kate's father first. He has a poised stance at the table, but a kind face.

I go to reply to Kate's mother next, but she's looking at me with the type of probing, burning stare you could only find in a searing hot laser beam. _Or a seriously overprotective mom..._ After all, only a mom has the ability to make _We've heard a lot about you_ sound more like _I internet-searched you for three hours and if you so much as falter_ once, _I'll know it._

Kate's sisters are a lot nicer. When one compliments my cooking and the other, ten-year old Lynn, asks her mom if I can sit down with them, I'm sure I'll be shooed away until Kate speaks up.

"Her boss said it was alright for her to come and see me. Pretty please?"

Mrs. Marsh gives in, and Kate makes room for me to sit next to her in the booth, smiling assuredly.

She mouths a silent _you're fine_ , and then something that looks vaguely like _I'm so sorry._

I'm not sure what she's sorry for until my talk with her family continues.

Before I go any further, I will state that the people in Kate's family are perfectly decent. But there does exist a fine wire, and all it takes is someone a little less conservative (ex., me, the lesbian) to lose my balance.

Kate's father says the family is down here visiting before _and_ during the week of Thanksgiving. They had apparently arrived early to spend extra time with Kate over the holidays, but her mother's laser eyes tell another tale—the tale of a family who wants to a keep close watch on their little girl after her recent experiences with a predatory photography teacher.

While we do discuss Kate's work being displayed in the museum, even that feels clipped and a little phony. When her mom asks me if I have a boyfriend, it's all I can do not to grimace.

 _Plaster the grin on, and just hold it tight. You can do this._ But I find myself pulled taut, teetering on the thin string every time I go to say something. I'd curse my condition, but that'd only get me a one-way ticket back into the kitchen.

"Hey, Max?"

"Huh?"

Kate rescues me when she gestures over towards the jukebox on the other side of the diner. "We should pick out a few songs. I have some change."

I all but fly from my seat as Kate follows behind me.

* * *

Once we're standing by the jukebox and there's a comfortable enough chance Kate's folks won't hear us, I notice we're both breathing freely again.

"Kate, is it blasphemous if I call you a savior?"

She giggles before smirking playfully. "I guess not. I know it's a compliment and I appreciate it. It's no problem, really. I could tell they were making you...unsettled."

"Yeah. I'm guessing they don't know about me, then."

"Heck, no. And I would really prefer if it stayed that way. I don't..." She looks at me like she's worried her words are hurting me, but I understand even before she says, "I don't want to lose you as a friend."

"I won't speak a word in front of them." I vow. "As far as they know, I'm Maxine the Straight."

"Good." Kate sighs, relieved. "I think my sisters would be fine with it, and my dad might even come around, too. It's my mother who would have something to say." She rolls her quarter over the rim of the jukebox, stalling. "You should have seen her when I won the _Everyday Heroes_ contest. Actually, you shouldn't have. She almost wouldn't let me travel up to San Francisco. But I saw her point to an extent. I mean, if I expected her to blindly trust Ms. Faye after Mr. Jefferson..."

"Hey." I put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you still got to go."

Kate smiles that assured smile again, and it's such an inspired, contagious glow that it keeps us over here, pretending we're selecting songs to play.

"You know, if they weren't here, I'd play some alternative music." Kate muses. It's sort of sad and sort of cute that she sounds like she's confessing something wildly provocative. "It's just...I love the guitars. Weirdly enough, they cascade just like classical melodies, if you listen close."

"I don't know if there even are any recent songs on this thing." I examine the machine thoughtfully. "If there were, Chloe would have probably already blasted some Panic! At The Disco by now."

"Oh, yeah. She's the friend you talked to, right? How are you two doing?" Kate asks, and with all the care in the world. And I feel foolish again, silly in the ways my jumbled brain may decide to answer her, silly in every way I couldn't answer her.

"We're...good." I shoot for simple, but my mouth wastes no time before complicating things. "G-great, actually. But..."

I trail off lamely. The clock continues to tick away and my grip on the knowledge I'm still searching for continues to slip. It doesn't occur to me that I've been quiet for far too long until Kate reaches out towards me, her hand touching my forehead, laying her fingers across my temple.

"Do you need some ice? Your face is really red."

 _Shit._ I'm ready to blame science for being so blatant before it hits me that I'm at another fork in the road, here. I could suffer at the hands of my own oblivion, or I could talk about this with Kate.

 _Fate or choice, Max? What's it going to be? I guess, if you're making a decision, then you've already chosen to choose._

"Alright." I brace myself. "I don't know how I can say this quickly, or at all, for that matter. I'm sure your parents are gonna want you back at the table in a while, and I'm eventually gonna need to take some more orders, and cook more, and-" I begin, ridiculously, but Kate clears her throat.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but I think I can help. Something about your friendship with Chloe is confusing you, isn't it?"

I gasp, watching her eyes light up through my own, wide with surprise.

"Wow, Kate. How did you..." My question floats away like a balloon.

"Jeremiah 29:12. " She answers. "It's a bible verse. It comes right after a popular one—Jeremiah 29:11. I like that one, too, but this one...it's kind of like my little secret." She winks before reciting the scripture: " _Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you._ If God listens to others, then I should strive to listen to others. And further than that, it's just the kind thing to do. I'm always here to help."

It shouldn't have shocked me, then, that Kate immediately linked my feelings to Chloe. _Of course. She's got a true heart. It's intuitive._

"That's so sweet." I grin. Then the grin gets awkward, if only because I'm not sure what to say from here. _I could say a lot, but here I am. Saying nothing. Confessing nothing._ Then the silence returns.

 _I guess that's it, then._ I turn towards the jukebox and start actually _selecting_ songs. "Thanks for listening, Kate." And I'm about to drop the silver coins one by one into the narrow slot when Kate pipes up again.

"What?"

I blink. "Hm?"

"Um..." She grows timid again, like she's trying not to push too hard, easing me into something that probably should have struck and resonated days ago. "Did you want to do anything about it? About Chloe, I mean. Maybe you need a new perspective."

"I don't know what's wrong." _That's a lie._ "Scratch that. I have an idea about what it might be. But I'd have to talk about it with Chloe. It's like you said. ."I need to listen to her. It's the kind thing to do."

"Okay." Kate prompts me, gently, to keep going.

"And...uh..." I stutter. "And it would change things."

"Yes." She nods, like she already knows. "Yes, it would."

"It seems like you've already figured it out."

At last, Kate smiles that knowing smile.

"You like her."

I expected the revelation to crash into me. It still kind of does. But hearing it spoken out loud is more of a relief than a crushing weight, like I'm finally unpacking a backpack of burdens I'd been carrying up a mental mountain. Only now am I fully aware of what I've accomplished, having scaled the rock of my emotions, staring down at an alien world.

"Yeah." I melt into the truth. All I see from this peak is Chloe. "I like her."

"It was fairly obvious."

"Wow. It really was, wasn't it?" I laugh at my own foolishness. "I guess that's the power of denial for you."

"Really?" Kate inquires. "Because personally, I don't think it was denial. I think you were looking out for Chloe. You think about her and how she feels before you think of yourself, and that just means you're super empathetic and a wonderful friend. But take it from me, and from what happened to me in September. People like us—people who listen—also have a voice. And it's an important one. You're your own person, Max. You have the right to speak up." She reminds me before speaking in an even softer voice. "You taught me that."

"And what if she doesn't like me back?" _God, Max. How stereotypical of you._

"That's always troubling to think about." Kate agrees. "But if telling her my story went well, which it sounds like it did, then I have no doubt that things will be okay, no matter what." She peers out the dusty windows and the light illuminates her face. "I have faith in you."

I catch her off-guard when I wrap my arms around her, but she accepts the hug with kindness and warmth. "Thank you."

We both stay there for a while until I remember _Kate's_ parents _are here_ and pull away, finally shoving the coins into the jukebox machine.

"I've forgotten which songs I wanted, already..."

Kate gazes at the various tracks before brightening again.

"No worries. I've got the _perfect_ one for you."

She selects _You're Still The One_ by Shania Twain as our first song. This time, when I turn beet red and scurry off, Kate doesn't ask if I need ice. Instead, she must know that I have to keep serving other customers. Still, I hear her as she heads back to her family. She's singing along playfully to the tune she's chosen, and I figure she must be eager to pick out more three-five minute confessions of mine to play, crooned through the greatest modern love songs, cripplingly resonant.

There was not knowing, and then there was knowing too much. My head had been grateful for the first, but my heart is becoming a beggar for the second.


	12. chapter 12

notes: Anna and Sarah here! Sorry this chapter is a day late! Our Thanksgiving wasn't assaulted with pesky relatives or obstructed by obligatory outings, thankfully... but we were still pretty busy yesterday. We did want to say that we think yesterday marked a year since we started playing Life Is Strange for the first time! 365 days later, and we're still obsessed as we were from day one

Chapter 12 is interesting, mainly because it's all SMS messages. What can we say? It was where the muse took us. We thought it would be an interesting way to convey things. Enjoy some ridiculously cute/flirty text banter; the next chapter is gonna be a pretty big deal. ;)

* * *

 **November 24**

Kate: _Hi, Max. Are you busy?_

Max: _Actually, yeah. But don't worry about it. Just another Manic Tuesday._

Max: _Get it?_ _Like Manic Monday? Only...yeah. Okay, forget that._

Max: _Anyway, I can definitely talk for a minute. What's up?_

Kate: _I just wanted to formally apologize for anything my parents may have said to you on Sunday. I've probably already apologized too many times, but I feel like you deserve that much._

Max: _Kate, what did I tell you? It's completely fine. What they don't know about me won't hurt 'em._

Max: _Besides, I had so much fun talking to you, as always :)_

Kate: _Hehe, me too!_

Kate: _:)_

Kate: _So what are you busy with? Is there any way I could possibly help?_

Max: _Nah. You're chill. I'm just trying to finish this monstrous world history essay before Thanksgiving break starts. I've got a beginning paragraph and everything, but I need to do more research... Format citations, tie them in with my main point, and then hope that I write enough words..._

Kate: _Oh, wow :(_

Max: _Yep. The monster's really digging its claws into me today. Plus, I think Dana wanted to hang out again eventually. And then there's work at the Two Whales, and Chloe..._

Kate: _I would come by your dorm and see if I could assist with researching, but I've actually got some stuff to do before the break starts, also. It's mostly going to be planning for the abstinence club. When is the paper due?_

Max: _Tomorrow at 10am. Because we still have a half-day on Wednesday, guess who still has to worry about her morning classes... :/_

Kate: _All of us do, really. But I know you can do it, Super Max. :)_

Max: _Haha, maybe. You're the everyday hero, though._

Kate: _I guess so... :)_

Kate: _So...you said something about Chloe, didn't you?_

Max: _Okay, yeah. I did ^-^ I've been waiting to see her again, but at the same time, I've got this bubbling feeling in my stomach that takes over your whole body, you know? Like someone could look at my face and listen to me speak and know absolutely everything._

Kate: _Aw, Max! Well, going from the fact that I've seen you keep secrets well, I wouldn't freak out over it too much._

Max: _I guess that is true. After all, Super Max struck Mark Jefferson like a ninja and never revealed her true identity...so it's nothing to stress about._

Kate: _Yeah. Nothing to stress about..._

Kate: _Um, Max? Can I ask you something?_

Max: _Absolutely. Whatever you need._

Kate: _I know it's kind of silly for me to ask this, since my parents didn't seem to get along too swimmingly with you and you just saw them and me on Sunday, but, um, they wanted to know if you'd like to come over for Thanksgiving break._

Kate: _I mean, you'd be with me. I wouldn't let them probe you any more than they already have. And we could still eat turkey and mashed potatoes and all of that good stuff. They just wanted to extend some hospitality, I would assume. And it would be nice to spend more time with you._

Kate: _If you don't want to come, though, I totally understand. We can arrange a tea date soon, instead! Of course, if you would still want to :)_

* * *

Chloe: _max the hw slayer? it's ur buffy price_

Chloe: _how's ur twisted tuesday? better than ur sticky sunday, i'd presume?_

Max: _Twisted Tuesday. I have to use that some time... Sticky Sunday, too. Really creative. Better than... never mind._

Max: _Sunday was great, actually. Remember, you were there that morning. And I was just about to text you._

Chloe: _fr?_

Max: _Yeah~_

Max: _It's not a blustering Tuesday without a side of Chloe ;)_

Chloe: _yoooooo. i would say 'no emoji' but that's a damn straight fact_

Max: _Sure. Because you and I, known gays, are the damn straightest..._

Chloe: _not. the. point._

Chloe: _where's the point again_

Max: _Oh, yeah. The point is that I don't know what to do._

Chloe: _wow me as hell_

Chloe: _wait, what don't you know to do?_

Max: _Well, I'm pretty sure I don't know how to say no._

Chloe: _u just did?_

Max: _At least, I can't say no very efficiently. In context._

Chloe: _context?_

Max: _Context: Kate wants me to spend Thanksgiving break with her family._

Chloe: _..._

Chloe: _..._

Chloe: _pfft_

Chloe: _that's super precious but u know joyce makes a killer turkey_

Chloe: _i mean_

Chloe: _she doesn't kill the turkey herself but_

Chloe: _she prepares it and cooks it and stuff_

Chloe: _gdi_

Chloe: _anyway idk kate's family may be good at cooking too for all i know_

Max: _I wouldn't know, either. And besides, I don't think I want to go._

Chloe: _hmm_

Max: _It's not that I don't adore Kate. I do. A lot. But spending Thanksgiving with her would probably involve a little bit of traveling. Not to mention that while her father may be pretty chill, her mother is...well, not so chill. The anti-chill, so to speak._

Chloe: _so she's a raging bitch, basically_

Max: _Basically yeah_

Max: _I'm sure she has other redeeming qualities, but..._

Max: _You've got the general idea._

Chloe: _huh_

Chloe: _it's like my family in reverse_

Chloe: _poor kate_

Chloe: _i'm sorry if i sounded jealous earlier idk_

Chloe: _i just_

Chloe: _maybe i'm not too sorry because_

Chloe: _because i don't want to_

Chloe: _um god okay i don't want to spend the holidays without u_

Max: _Aw, Chloe..._

Max: _Me neither_ _:)_

Chloe: _max caulfield u only have so many "get-out-of-emoji" free cards, must u waste them all_

Max: _Yeah_

Chloe: _ugh_

Chloe: _anyway_

Chloe: _so that's a yes to thanksgiving with the prices?_

Max: _hold on, what?_

Chloe: _if ur not gonna spend it with kate, spend it with me doofus_

Chloe: _there might also be... pumpkin pie_

Chloe: _*wink*_

Max: _So close to the winking emoji, weren't you?_

Chloe: _HARDLY_

Max: _Pumpkin pie sounds promising, alright. but will there be whipped cream?_

Chloe: _what kind of dumbass question is that_

Chloe: _there will indeed be copious amount of whipped cream_

Chloe: _now say yeeeessssss_

Max: _..._

Max: _..._

Max: _Yes :)_

Chloe: _ahhhhhh yay yay yay_

Max: _You saying "yay" is the best thing I've heard all day 3_

Chloe: _again with the heart emoji... feelin mushy?_

Chloe: _mushy, mushy max_

Chloe: _what a shame_

Chloe: _like a banana_

Max: _Uhmmm..._

Max: _I'm just excited to see you tomorrow afternoon :D_

Max: _Like, really excited. That is when you'd pick me up, right? Or would you just want me to come on Thanksgiving day itself? I figured I'd be sleeping over, but I can definitely rearrange that if it doesn't work for you..._

Chloe: _dude pls! i'm picking u up at blackwell after ur half-day or whatever and we're taking off like fuckin seagulls!_

Chloe: _u won't step foot in that dungeon of a school again until what... black friday? maybe saturday if i can talk joyce into it. it'd work, u know. u staying my house forever and eatin her grade a food. it's a good offer, caulfield. i wouldn't refuse it_

Max: _It's definitely not a life I'd be averse to living, that's for sure._

Chloe: _then i guess_

Chloe: _i guess i'll see u tomorrow_

Max: _The heart! Mushy is contagious, I see..._

Chloe: _..._

Chloe: _maybe i've seen the light_

Chloe: _or maybe_

Chloe: _i don't mind bein sick_

Max: _..._

Max: _Heh. I've got an essay to write for world history, but I'll talk to you then?_

Chloe: _yeah yeah_

Chloe: _sooner if possible_

Chloe: _just try and focus on ur paper now mwahaha_

Max: _I'll try_

Max: _lol_

Max: _I might not succeed, but I'll try._

* * *

Kate: _Max?_

Max: _Hey, Kate. I'm so sorry I didn't respond to your message earlier! I kind of got caught up in texting Chloe, and then the history essay happened..._

Kate: _Chloeeee? Apology immediately accepted, then :)_

Max: _No, really. I may have a crush, but I shouldn't ignore everything else because of it. Chloe wants to spend Thanksgiving break with me, but I still wanna find a time to hang out with you, too. Maybe I could bring Chloe along and we could try and raid the mall on Black Friday?_

Kate: _Really? You're not scared that we may get trampled to death?_

Max: _Normally, I would be. But not with Chloe. She'll make sure I don't pull a Trademark Max and collide right into the other shoppers. And you'll be the tiny little sweetheart nobody can resist who'll enable us to cut in the lines! Unless you wouldn't feel comfortable with that..._

Kate: _Hey! I do know how to cut loose every once in a while! Give me the benefit of the doubt!_

Kate: _Now, that being said, I may still get trampled... But you're right. I'm not going to be scared of anything, if I can manage it. If it happens, it's gonna be awesome. Something worth trying._

Max: _Something worth trying._

Max: _I get exactly what you mean._


	13. chapter 13

notes: Anna and Sarah here. All we can say is that we're incredibly sorry.

We're sorry that we finally got behind on writing/posting this story. It wasn't our intention to fall behind on the timeline for updating new chapters; we'd even written a lot of this fic in advance. And yet, here we are. Life is...weird. (Get it?) To be fair, Anna had college finals during the first week of December. Add that to her hours at work and you've got a recipe for _major_ writer's block. She wanted to finish this scene over Thanksgiving break, but the muse just...wasn't there. And she really struggled with that, mostly because this chapter is pretty pivotal. But Sarah helped. And out of the blood, sweat, and tears came this interesting little mess. It's overdue, but it's here.

This is Chapter 13, in all of its perfect imperfections.

It's for you guys.

(As always, feedback and critique are both _extremely_ appreciated!)

* * *

 **November 28**

 _Max Caulfield_

Saturday. I can't remember the last time I didn't eat Thanksgiving leftovers as a meal, and I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed that wasn't Chloe's.

I turned in my paper for world history on Wednesday morning and roughed it at Blackwell until the half-day was over. The early ring of the bell pulled me out of my seat faster than I think I've ever bolted from a chair before.

Like a dope, I ran through the halls and out into the parking lot, almost slamming face-first into the open door of her truck. She laughed at me for a solid minute. Finally, she eased me into the passenger's seat, but that didn't keep her from breaking into laughter all over again, all the way back to her house.

Wednesday night, we watched _Buffy_. Thursday night, we watched more _Buffy_ and re-watched half a season of one of the anime shows from our childhood. We had brought our plates upstairs to avoid any confrontations with David. We ate Joyce's fabulous turkey with homemade stuffing and several various casseroles until we could both barely move a muscle.

I said something about how wretched a holiday Thanksgiving really was, about how its origin just got more degrading and disturbing the longer I thought about it. Chloe told me that my comment meant I _had_ learned something from _Buffy_ , after all (One Thanksgiving episode starring vengeful Native spirits was enough to enlighten me), and we switched off her laptop for a while to talk about what it must have been like for the natives in Arcadia Bay.

We talked about the tobanga, about the lighthouse, about what must be several hidden pieces of history, about how mysterious it all was. And we decided one day, we'd go exploring again. Uncover all the secrets we'd overlooked when we were kids. Keep discovering.

On Friday afternoon, we actually did drive out to explore. We took a walk along the beach, scanning signs that told us about the native flora and fauna. Some offered bits of historical information, too, but as I'd expected, Chloe started to get bored reading them. Too educational for her taste.

I could tell she was _way_ more into the superstitions. After stealing my phone from my pocket, she'd searched every online article including the words _Arcadia Bay_ and _strange occurrences._

" _Maybe this town isn't so much of a corpse after all._ " Her words sounded nonchalant, but as she kept reading one specific "news" piece off my phone, her eyes glowed. _Whoa, that's some trippy shit, Max. Look at this! I think there's something here about an ancient prophecy..._

Friday night, we journeyed to the mall for Black Friday. Kate met us at the bus stop, bundled in a black wool coat and a red knitted scarf so cozy looking, I almost wanted to steal it.

The three of us chatted on the way in, Kate introducing herself to Chloe in the most awkward fashion possible. A lot could have gone wrong. And I mean a lot. But both the timid Christian and the raucous punk seemed to get along fine.

They mostly kept the conversation to the narrow field of things they had in common: me, and the fact that we were in a wild retail war zone. We shopped for a couple of hours at smaller stores with less threatening looking crowds, surveying the madness as customers scrambled to snatch up deals, slamming into huge display racks like battering rams. They were animals. I think Chloe recorded videos.

We made it through the throngs of people and the lines that snaked from the inside of one store to the outside of the store next door. Chloe cursed a lot, and once she remembered Kate was there, she apologized and ended up cursing in the middle of her apologies, too. And yet, if it bothered Kate, she hardly spoke a word. Only once did she say something, after Chloe had apologized for dropping three f-bombs in a row as we walked out of FYE. _"It really is okay, Chloe. I'm sure God completely understands that you_ really _wanted those Skullcandy headphones."_

Today is my last day at Chloe's. I have to go back to school eventually. _Principal Wells isn't going to be too happy if he doesn't see the kids flitting about in the dormitories again soon... Not that they'll be doing any homework. They'll be too busy hiding stashes of supplies for their weekend highs and sneaking members of the opposite sex into their rooms..._ I snickered softly into my best friend's pillow at that last thought, and about how irrelevant it is to _me_.

 _This is so nice..._ And I decide, once and for all, that I'm truly never going to leave this house. Out of the million times I've vowed to stay, I've never followed through. This time, I mean it. This time, I won't permit Chloe to let me go.

 _Like she would even think about allowing me to leave. Like her arms will ever willingly loosen their hold on me._

 _Wait._

I go to shift underneath the toasty blankets and I feel her, feel the weight of her arm tossed over my left side, feel the other nestled snugly underneath my right side and probably as asleep as she is, feel the soft touch of her fingers across the fabric of my pajama top, feel one palm resting near my belly button.

Chloe's wrapped herself around me in her sleep, and I feel heaven.

Then she shifts and my shirt rides up and her hand starts to tickle the skin of my stomach, and the pattern of her breath, little puffs of warm air behind my ear, starts to tickle, too. And then I'm giggling and stretching a bit, and then I know this is about to be over. But then I hear her voice, and I don't mind.

"S'matter, Max? Are you finally tired of me?"

 _Chloe Price_

"S'matter, Max? Are you finally tired of me?"

"Never." Max mumbles, her voice low and thick with sleep. "Tired, maybe. But not of you. Never of you."

"Good." I smile into her ruffled mess of brown hair and hug her tighter, selfish and indulgent. Her body is almost softer than the mattress. Then she stretches out some more and I reluctantly release her. Folding her arms, she rubs her hands over the goosebumps on the skin left uncovered by her cream-colored t-shirt. Almost as if she's adjusting to a chill in the room. Almost as if the absence of me left her cold.

I'd spent the last two weeks being slapped across the face by a revelation. _I like Max._ Of course I'm attracted to her. But I think I'm still too much of a punkass to admit it. After all, punkasses don't just get scared—we get scared and hide it.

For days, the actual _attraction_ had stayed a subconscious thing. It was a vague file, buried in the chaos of my brain, not even labeled and nearly forgotten. right up until the moment I realized I'd been thinking about it for a while. Yet another slap in the face. _God, I'm a sucker for pain._

Attraction is like a puzzle to me. I normally don't fuck with solving it. Better to leave it deconstructed and avoid wasting my time. After all, why should I attempt to put something together when most things fall apart ten times as fast?

But then Max gives me that sheepish smile of hers, one hand reaching for the back of her neck, and my heart feels like it's going to hack away at my ribs, crawl out of my shredded chest and collapse into her hands.

 _We fall apart, but we come back together. At least, Max and I do. We always do._

"What do you want to do?"

I blink, distracted. "Wait, what?"

Max laughs, rising from the bed, and I follow her over near my closet. "We've done almost everything the past few days. What else did you want to do?"

 _I have to do something about this._ _I have to get closer. I have to take the risk... I have to dare myself to-_

"Hey." My eyes suddenly flicker to life like a lighter, burning bright with mischievous fire. Thinking about daring myself to do something had knocked another Max-Memory loose. "I know what we could do."

"Uh-oh. That sounds like your _bad idea_ voice."

"Well, duh. What good is an idea if it isn't a bad idea?"

"Chloe. A good idea is _good._ A bad idea is..."

"Look, whatever. I promise, this'll be fun."

"Okay. What's your idea?"

It's not even as much of an idea as it is a plan, and that's weird, because I don't plan. I'm shit at making plans. But I'm a skilled expert at taking stupid-ass risks. And since this plan involves taking stupid-ass risks, maybe it'll actually work. Maybe, just maybe, it'll turn out average.

"Let's play Truth or Dare."

And that was step one.

 _Max Caulfield_

"Alright, we'll play. But on one condition. I'm _not_ waking and baking."

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Ugh, alright. More weed for me later."

We take turns and I choose to go first. I pick truth at least ninety percent of the time and, devoted in her opposition, Chloe often picks dare. She asks me about which teenage milestones I've hit—drinking, drugs, sex, the usual—and to what extent I've hit them. I give her honest answers, not only because those are the rules of the game, but because she's my best friend. At least my crush remains hidden.

Time passes as Chloe counts my milestones on her fingers. The digits are still partially stained blue because I dared her to wash one of David's white t-shirts in a sink filled with her azure hair dye. I had been totally prepared for her to say she wouldn't do it, but she'd accepted the challenge without hesitation.

"Huh. Didn't even take me one hand to list your worldly experiences." She frowns. "So you never went on any dubious doobie hunts in Seattle? Never downed a bottle of Jack Daniels and gotten wild on the table for anyone? Never went all the way?"

I shake my head. "I just turned eighteen this September."

Chloe grins wryly. "Oh, yeah. Because _everyone_ waits until they're eighteen."

I know she's not trying to judge me. Honestly, now that she's over me moving, I don't think she'd shame me if I told her I'd been with seven different people while I'd been away.

"But...I mean, you've kissed people, right?"

My stomach never turned once during the sex talk, but something about this, the word _kissed_. It registers as different, and the butterflies in my stomach execute an unexpected ambush.

All she wants to talk about is who I've kissed, and I have kiss stories. My first kiss was with a boy, back before I'd discovered myself. I was fourteen. His name was Eli. It'd taken the duration of the school year for him to admit he liked me, but after his team won a basketball game, the victory had spurred him to be bold and make his move.

The first kiss that shook me was the one with Sage. She smelled like sage, too. It was during a game of Spin The Bottle at Fernando's house. I'd heard Kristen gasp when the bottle stopped whirling; she was even more surprised when Sage and I had actually locked lips. I remember telling her something philosophical like _"I think I opened a door, tonight, and I'm interested to see where it leads."_

And there were others. Boys and girls alike, young little relationships as I worked on solidifying my identity and finding someone steady. Sage and I had actually tried dating for a while, but it turned out that we were too similar in personality.

I could tell these stories. I've told all the others. I'm not afraid of that.

I'm not afraid, but-

 _Kissed. I'd kiss you in a heartbeat, Chloe. I'd kiss you, and it'd possibly be the riskiest thing I've ever done, believe it or not. But I would. I would, if you'd let me._

"Max Caulfield. Are you telling me you've never had your first kiss?"

 _Chloe Price_

And that was step two.

This is strange. I feel casual. I'm acting casual, teasing Max until her cheeks are so red that you'd guess she'd been sunburned. My voice is relaxed, smooth across the words, eccentric in every right place, easy as pie. I feel casual.

But I also feel vulnerable. Fearful. Something is stirring and driving me insane. _This isn't part of the plan._ Okay, it was a part of step two of the plan was to bring up kissing, which is never hard in a game of Truth Or Dare. This game is built for confessions. I brought it up, and it was simple.

What isn't part of the plan is my emotions. They're kicking up a major fit, a heated temper tantrum beneath my skin, but I think I'm doing alright. I'm at ease, but I'm also fucking terrified. Balance.

"Of _course_ I've had my first kiss." Max answers me. I expect her to huff, all bashfully indignant about me not giving her the benefit of the doubt, but she doesn't. She doesn't even warn me not to treat her like we're still kids. In fact, instead of her normal tease, she goes silent after stumbling through her sentence.

"But, um, we're getting off track. It's my turn, anyway, unless you want to count that as my turn and move on."

"No!" I'm too quick to stop her. "I mean, nah, that doesn't count. You can't come up with your own truth."

"You asked!"

"Sure, but I asked out of game." I shrug, smirking and hoping I win.

"Please, Chloe. You just want me to pick dare."

 _Whoa._ In fact, that's exactly what I want her to do. That's step three. That's step three, and she'd ask me what the dare would involve, and all that would be left...

Then I know. It's time to stop fooling around.

It's time to take this risk.

 _Stop second guessing yourself, Chloe._

"Yeah, Max! Pick dare. Just once."

Slowly, Max begins to gather her own courage.

"Okay, okay. I pick dare."

"Excellent. I promise, you won't regret it."

 _No regrets. Just go for it._

"You can afford to take chances. Whenever and whatever you want to try. For example, I dare you to kiss me."

 _Max Caulfield_

"What?"

Chloe stares at me and I feel like I'm in a dream. This can't really be happening. It's exactly what I want, but it's as if I don't know what to do with it. It's too good to be true. Destiny's already offered me so much, and now this.

Now her.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid, but I don't want to be. There isn't a reason to be. I'm safe, here. This is Chloe Price, my best friend in the world. This is the girl destiny gave back to me. This is someone I know I won't lose, no matter if there existed the years when she'd lost me. Her room is safe. Even the creaks in the floor are safe.

But it's still a risk. It's always a risk, I think. Even when you know someone like the back of your hand, like your last name. There's still doubt, and the doubt gnaws away at your insides because you're so worried it's not going to be perfect.

I'm worried, but then I look at her.

I look at her and I see hope. There's hope on her face. She's tried to mask it, hide it behind wicked teases and a strong resolve. But maybe this isn't a game anymore, and maybe she knows it.

This may be Truth or Dare, but if I kiss her, I'm choosing both.

"I double dare you. Kiss me now."

With everything we've been through since the beginning flying through my mind like leaves in a storm, I place one hand on her cheek. With disbelief as to how lucky I am to have gotten to this point, I place the other on her shoulder. Both are shaking.

I shut my eyes and lean in so fast, I put myself in danger of missing her lips, but the split second they meet mine, the world around us instantly slows.

 _Oh, my god._

The taste of her is experimental at first. Just a slight peck that lasts about a quarter of a second. My eyes flutter open carefully, watching as she steps back.

 _No. No, no, no. I blew it._

But then she takes me by surprise.

Her hands cover her mouth in absolute awe before they grab my wrists, pulling my arms up and around her again, her own arms around my waist.

"You call that a kiss, Caulfield? Pathetic."

We kiss again, but this time she's leading, and I'm unraveling like I couldn't have even imagined.

Chloe's lips are firm and steady. Her touch is achingly tender. I rest my hands on the nape of her neck, fingertips brushing against her hair, and she shifts closer to me. Then I start chuckling when we break, awkward and disheveled, my ragged breaths brushing against her chin.

"I...I should probably get back to school."

But I don't want to go, and I don't know what I'm saying. My mind is in another dimension completely. It doesn't even register to me that I haven't had breakfast and I'm still in my pajamas until Chloe shoves me away playfully.

"Sure, like you're gonna leave without raiding the fridge one more time. At least let Joyce make you something before you go."

Is it just my imagination, or does her voice sound as uneven as mine?

"Oh, yeah, I will. I can't say no to her pancakes."

"And put on a coat? It's freezing out there."

"I'll make sure to get my things together."

"Alright."

A long pause. _Alright._

Then I have to adjust to reality again. I believe I must be packing up my things and walking towards the door to her room, but I'm so out of it that I can barely tell. Someone's pushed fast-forward, and now I'm caught in a blur, my feet never touching the ground once, not fully aware of anything except for what just happened.

 _What just happened?_

"Uh, Max?"

My fingers are on the doorknob. My bag is on my arm.

"Yeah, Chlo?"

"Miss you already."

 _Chloe, you'll never have to miss me again._

"You're such a dork."

I head down the stairs, through the kitchen, mindlessly. I sit at the table and eat Joyce's food. Once I'm done, I thank her for her kindness and she pulls me into a hug.

And then Chloe's there again, driving me back to Blackwell in her truck while I listen to the soft murmuring of the tires against the road. Rays of light splay across her face as the trees whirl by behind her through the glass windows.

It was just a game, a silly dare, but that doesn't erase what I'd done.

It doesn't change the fact that I kissed Chloe.

It doesn't change the fact that this might change everything.

 _Chloe Price_

Everything's changed.

I feel of her eyes watching me at the wheel, caught up like she always is in her pretentious cinematic head. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me like that.

I wonder what she's seeing now.

I wonder what this is. I wonder what we are. I wonder if my lips did any better of a job than my voice when it came to expressing myself this morning. I wonder if she felt the velocity of my pulse when I pulled her in. I wonder if she's thinking about the kiss as much as I am.

 _The kiss._ And then, all at once, I'm exhausted of wondering.

But I can't stop. I can't fight off the last question as I park the car and Max disappears into the dormitories, foolishly waving at me the whole way back.

 _What comes next?_


End file.
